An Hour A Night, As The Vampire Bites
by BurningRave18
Summary: A discontinued collaborative project where several writers worked together to create a vast and multi-dimensional story following the events of Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines.
1. Foreword

A year ago to this day, I proposed a collaborative project revolving around the aftermath of the events that take place in the game Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines. It started off as something small and casual, but as a few new writers joined and we became more ambitious, it took off and became something with much more depth than I think any of us expected.

The story was an original work with each of multiple writers working together and off each other in order to create a complex, multi-dimensional story. As previously mentioned, it took place following the events of Bloodlines, incorporating nearly every single Bloodlines NPC as well as adding in an impressive collection of new characters and storylines. World Of Darkness and VtM Bloodlines fans, as well as anyone just interested in vampires that don't sparkle should find this a fun and enjoyable read.

After an impressive nine months of work, the project finally fell apart as each of the writers involved began to depart, abandoning the story after writing out 12 and a half very lengthy, fully detailed and expansive Chapters, each of which spanned one entire night. It was saddening, but with little support, the project was inevitably doomed to conclude early and leave countless creative and interesting plotlines never to see a conclusion.

Instead of letting this story, which so many skilled, creative individuals devoted so much time and effort into writing, get lost in the vastness of the internet, I've decided to begin posting the entire story on both my Deviant Art page and here. Of course, I will be leaving in the names of the original posters for each particular section of the story so as to give credit where credit is beyond due. These names are the screen names that the writers used on Myth Weavers, where we regularly met to work on the story. I will not alter the story in any way aside from, if I have the time, some minor proofreading and editing, and as such there may be errors in the text. It's important to understand that we wrote this more so for enjoyment than to create a perfect piece of literature. As such, it would be impossible for me to correct every single mistake.

I am not going to provide a background for anything having to do with the World of Darkness, Vampire: The Masquerade or the events that took place in Bloodlines. All of that information, if so desired, can be found on the internet with a bit of searching. That said, this story does a good job at making such prior information not required. Yes, certain references and words may be lost to you if you haven't dabbled in World of Darkness lore, but it should hardly prove detrimental to enjoying the story. Furthermore, for those of you who do, in fact, have knowledge of the World of Darkness, we do take some creative liberties here and there within the story. However, for the most part, all of the writers tried to stay true to established lore and story.

If anyone has any questions on the story and such, I will be more than happy to answer them when I get a chance. Feel free to contact me by any means. I always try to message back anyone who makes a comment on the things I post.

It's probably also worth mentioning the style in which we chose to go about writing this. Each writer was free to create any characters they wished. Their main characters were the characters they wrote from the perspective of for various scenes. At first, we decided that in writing certain sections, we could write for other writers' characters by treating them as NPCs, that is, writing in actions and dialogue that our main character witnesses their character performing, but nothing more. Later on, we developed a system where writers were able to keep complete control of their main characters, even in scenes that were written from the perspective of another writer's character. We did this by having writers alternate as they wrote out particular scenes, so as to keep the integrity of their characters.

I hope that makes sense, but if it doesn't, you'll probably be able to figure it out after reading for a while. It's not a huge deal. I simply thought it worth mentioning in concerns to character consistency at the beginning of this story and how the style changes slightly later on. Regardless, enjoy the story and even if, for whatever reason, you can't get into it at first, I really urge you to read through a few nights because it really does start to become something amazing later on. It's amazing to see how the characters interact and develop through this text and while I may be biased, I truly think this proved to be one of the most entertaining and enthralling things I have ever have the privilege both to work on and to read.

* * *

**Author's Note:** As I'm considering to only upload the rest of Nights 1 and 2 up here, due to time restraints on my behalf, I'm going to give the link to out Forum on Myth Weavers. If I had more fan support, I would probably consider more about uploading more nights here and my Deviant Art page. Furthermore, more support would really help motivate us to finish up the story in some sort of fashion, so by all means come by and show some support.

You can find the link on my Deviant Art page (a link to which is found on my profile here) or you can go to Myth Weavers and search for An Hour A Night, As The Vampire Bites.


	2. Our Story Begins Nights 1 and 2 Part 1

**Our Story Begins… (Nights 1-2)**

[Post 1]

Author : lothario

Date : Jun 2 6:41pm

The sun went down over two hours ago, and Therese Voerman took a minute to adjust her hair ever so slightly as she stared into the vanity mirror one last time. As the newly-crowned Prince of Santa Monica, it was her duty to call the meeting of the new Kindred who have wandered into her city, but the task ahead seemed more a distraction than a necessity. The rabble awaiting her downstairs in the Asylum were little more than Caitiff, as far as she was concerned, but duty was duty, and she was willing to go the extra mile in these trying times... especially if it earned her points with the interim Prince of LA, the noted Tremere Regent, Maximillian Strauss.

Sighing to herself, Therese smiled at the results of her makeup as the voice of her sister Jeanette spoke back from her image in the mirror.

"You look marvelous, darling... don't keep our guests waiting!" Jeanette offered her a smirk, and Therese grinned back.

"I have to admit that these meetings are more to your particular liking, Jeanette... Such displays of goodwill towards the riff-raff are unbecoming a new Prince."

"Oh posh, sister... this is what being a Prince is all about! Getting out there, shaking hands, kissing babies..."

"I suppose that's not all you would kiss, Jeanette... honestly. You know that I found Jack's old cigar butt still floating in the toilet from last night? Disgusting." Jeanette gave her an evil leer in the mirror, and then shrugged her shoulders innocently. The gesture was reminiscent of a schoolgirl who had just been caught passing a note to a favored boyfriend.

"Whatever, darling... he has his uses. That's why we're in this partnership to begin with, isn't it? We need to maintain contact with the Anarchs downtown if we want to get ahead these nights." Therese sighed once again, and nodded.

"You're right, my sister. But the least you could do is make him pick up after himself."

"I bet he left that there on purpose, just to annoy you, Therese... don't be so quick to fall for his pranks next time." Therese choked back the sudden snarl that rose in her throat, and then calmed herself a bit before replying to her sister in the mirror.

"I'll... I'll keep that in mind, Jeanette, thank you. I suppose we should go down to the party now. Do try to keep quiet around them... remember that we are still "fighting", and that's why you didn't show up tonight. If you suddenly got an itch you wanted to scratch while I was shaking hands with some cute boy, it wouldn't do to have the new Prince suddenly grabbing a visiting Kindred on the butt." Jeanette gave a little giggle, putting her hand over her mouth, and then nodded back.

"I'll try my best to behave myself, oh mighty Prince."

Therese rolled her eyes, and then left her sister back in the mirror, the sounds of her tall heels clacking against the hardwood floor of her apartment above the club. When she reached the elevator that led down to the gathering of Kindred below, she sighed bitterly and pressed the call button on the wall. The muffled sounds of thumping music from the club below only accentuated her foul mood.

"This is going to be aggravating."

* * *

[Post 2]

Author : lothario

Date : Jun 2 10:03pm

The Malkavian Lothario gave a start, as the odor of freshly burning ash suddenly entered his nose. Grabbing at the elbow of the undead girl sitting next to him at the bar, he spoke urgently in her ear, making himself heard above the thumping beat of club music that filled the musty air of the club Asylum.

"Do you smell that? It smells like something burning!" The girl gave a slight frown, testing the air, and then shrugged.

"There's no fire in here, handsome... the only thing in this club is a rave." Twitching his mouth nervously, Lothario replied.

"A rave? Maybe a burning rave? Odd..." Lothario was lost in thought for a moment, staring off into the distance, but then he glanced down at the girl who assaulted him with a brilliant smile.

"I'm Damsel. What's your name?" Lothario gulped nervously at the girl, fighting down the urge to run, and offered her a weak smile in return.

"Umm... I'm known as Lothario now, but I used to be Collin Firenze, the tenth Comte du Fromage of Savannah. It is sometimes the custom of my clan to discard old names when our eyes are opened to the world around us." The girl looked momentarily crestfallen, and then gathered herself as she replied in a nonchalant tone barely audible over the clashing of gongs and pounding of electronic drums.

"Oh... so you're old money, huh? Typical."

"Umm... sorry. Did I offend you somehow?" The girl leveled him a slight sneer as she replied in an earnest tone.

"No. But the only reason I'm here tonight is to avoid people like you. What is some limp-wristed fop of a Malkavian going to do to help my cause? Excuse me."

As Damsel got up from her barstool, Lothario watched her go with a sad look. Unlike others of his clan, who were given insight into the future, or into current events, his particular curse focused him solely on the past, and now the whispers in his mind spoke of the girl's struggles and the strife that has befallen her almost immediately from birth. She had led a rough life, and now an even rougher unlife. He knew what she was here for, even without her telling him. This was her version of an Anarch recruitment drive.

Perhaps she would have better luck with some of the other kindred... Lothario was fully in the camp of his beautiful and sometimes raunchy sire, and he regretted the fact that her spat with her sister, the new Prince of Santa Monica, kept her away from this gathering.

As Lothario stared out at the other inhabitants of the club, one thought raced through his mind: "Oh my beautiful Jeanette, where are you?"

* * *

[Post 3]

Author : roddyrod

Date : Jun 2 10:35pm

Roderick stood there, leaning slightly against a wall, looking at the dead flesh that was the back of his hand. It helped to keep his mind off his growing frustration with the situation he found himself in. The deafening noise from the awful screeching that passed for music these days grated on his nerves, tempting him to lash out and break something, or perhaps someone. Of course, breaking Elysium would no doubt have resulted in a fate worse than having to stand there in the Asylum (how fitting a name, he thought), but even then only slightly.

The thought of simply leaving briefly flashed through his mind, but he dismissed it. Partly because of what he had heard of the now-Prince of Santa Monica, but mostly because of what he was. His sire, prior to falling on the wrong side of a Sabbat pack and catching one final sunrise, had told him a few vital things: One, the Camarilla was his best chance at survival. Two, LaCroix was not to be trusted (and considering his fate, with good reason). Three, if anyone asked, he was a Ventrue. Four, mirrors are not your friends. Five, avoid Malkavians. Six, heed the Traditions. Seven, don't meet your Final Death.

He looked around the club, taking in his surroundings. So modern, he thought, not entirely pleased with the direction that humanity was going. Advertisements, posters, lights: _bright lights; I hate bright lights_. His critique of his surroundings was interrupted by one part of one conversation in particular. _Wait, did someone say Malkavian?_ _Of all of the Kindred in Santa Monica, there has to be a Lunatic here, doesn't there?_

The disconcerting thoughts subsided for a moment, replaced by a strange feeling that something was off. He looked around, unable to place his finger on it.

* * *

[Post 4]

Author : BurningRave

Date : Jun 2 11:23pm

A young girl, appearing to be in her early twenties, approached a man as he smoked a cigarette besides a bus stop. She couldn't help but grin as she caught sight of his eyes glance over at her, look away and then immediately focus back on her. Amy's slender figure, slightly pale complexion, long red hair that winded down her back in a spiral ponytail and deep, blue eyes took hold of this man's mind and when she spoke, he listened intently to every last syllable.

"Hi, excuse me," Amy turned her grin into a smile. "This is going to sound so stupid, but I'm completely lost. Can you tell me where the Asylum is?"

"Of course I can. Just continue going down this street and make a right, You'll run into it a few blocks down. You know, this isn't exactly the safest area in Santa Monica. I'm not doing anything, would you like some company?"

Amy's eyes widened a little and her attention immediately drew to the man's neck. She struggled to keep a smile on her face. "No, no thank you."

The man seemed hurt. "Are you sure? I don't think I could stand to watch you walk away."

"I'm sorry. I'm actually meeting my boyfriend there. You'd probably be safer if you stayed here"

"Figures that you'd be taken." Part of the fascination that showed in the tone of his voice and look in his eyes faded.

"Sorry," Amy found herself locked on his green eyes, "but thank you for the directions."

"Don't mention it. Have a nice night." He turned away and Amy shook out of her daze.

Amy began to walk away with the color of the man's eyes stuck in her head. "You too."

Twenty minutes later, Amy walked through the front doors of the Asylum. Instantly, the music of the club began pounding in the vampire's ears. As she walked into the main room, she felt the eyes of other cursed beings look upon her supernatural beauty. Part of her wished that she could fade into a shadow and be forgotten. Unfamiliar Kindred often made her uncomfortable.

"Sometimes, I think he likes to torment me. I don't understand why he couldn't have just came here instead." She muttered to herself, taking a seat at the bar.

The worst part of the night wasn't the inevitable dealing with other vampires, but her hunger. She had pushed off feeding just a little longer than she should have and the cravings were beginning to consume her mind. Her body desired warmth against her lips and down her throat.

"Want something to drink, beautiful?" The bulky, tattoo-covered bartender broke her train of thought.

"You have no idea."

* * *

[Post 5]

Author : lothario

Date : Jun 3 7:11am

When the fresh scent of decay first assailed Lothario's nostrils, he wasn't immediately taken aback by its potency. Since becoming embraced some few weeks ago, he had encountered many strange and inexplicable sensations, but this particular gathering of the local Kindred of Santa Monica was proving taxing to his regrettably jaded sensibilities. Almost immediately, his gaze was drawn towards a withdrawn youth who kept himself in the corner of the club, and Lothario couldn't help but notice the man's tired look of disdain at the night's proceedings.

There was something about the young man... or perhaps he wasn't even young. So many kindred had a visible age that belied their true age, but Lothario couldn't shake the feeling that this particular dark individual was more than he appeared.

Throwing caution to the wind, which was par for the course as far as his clan was concerned, Lothario made a cautious approach to the shadowy stranger that leaned against the wall, as the throbbing beat of the club's music drowned out all other sound.

When the young man gave him the slightest notion of attention, Lothario stuck out his hand awkwardly, and a false grin of bravado came over his face. The words that followed his gesture seemed to tumble from his lips like an overturned cart full of watermelons.

"Umm... Hi! I'm Lothario! I'm new to here, and to all of this... I just thought that the more friends I had, the better life, err... unlife, would be. I have to say that the Roddy, err.. ruddy, that is, darkness seems to cling to you. What brings you here? Are you here on an errand? Or have you come to see what splendors lie behind the BULLSHIT, err... excuse me, behind the curtain veil of the Camarilla?"

The young man regarded Lothario with a carefully composed aura of disinterest, and then Lothario heard the whispers of his own particular madness creep into his brain and drown out all other sound. As the thump of electronic bass faded away, he could make out a few tiny details of the voices, which came from everywhere, and yet nowhere - all at once.

"He can't reply to you... he's special, Loth... his story is his to tell, all on his own." Lothario gave a start, and raised an eyebrow in reply to the voices in his head.

"But if I can't make him notice me, how is this story going to work?" The cacophony of answering whispers filled his head, and Lothario was gladdened by their presence.

"You must be the one to bend, Loth... let them use you in whatever way they see fit. Only then will you find your way through the path of shadows."

"But if I give them permission to do whatever they want, what if they make me do something horrible?"

"Don't worry, Loth... these guys aren't dicks."

Lothario gave a slight giggle, which appeared for a split-second to unnerve the young man, but then the composed aura of control settled once again over the stranger's features. Not giving the man an instant's reprieve, Lothario continued in a hasty voice.

"If you, or anybody else wants to use me in a story, then that's just fine with me... knock yourself out!" Lothario couldn't help but notice that look of alarm that flashed for only the briefest of moments across the man's face, and then the sense that something momentous had occurred crossed Lothario's twisted mind. His hand remained outstretched towards the dark stranger, and the man seemed to calculate his response for second, seemingly not knowing if it was such a good idea to return the favor.

* * *

**Author's Comment:** I suppose about five posts per upload is reasonable. Some future uploads may be significantly longer than this one, though.

Notice lothario's character breaking the fourth wall, especially towards the end? That was his little way of letting myself, roddy and Flint (who was only with us for a brief period at the start) know that we could utilize his character as we see fit while we write.

Ah, lothario. He was a very interesting writer. He and I started playing a little game with his character, Lothario, since part of Lothario's particular strain of vampirism gave him Tourettes Disease.

Haha, you'll see what I mean later on. It gets pretty entertaining/disturbing...

**roddy's Comment: **My first post. They were much shorter originally. Not much to say here, other than that it took a bit of time to get into the character, so this entry is a little off compared to the later ones. Also the retcons. I have a few of those. In this one, in the time scale I ended up settling on, Roderick's sire wouldn't have known about LaCroix, so that part doesn't actually make sense anymore.


	3. Our Story Begins Nights 1 and 2 Part 2

[Post 6]

Author : Flint_A

Date : Jun 3 7:43am

"Hiya Artie," chimed the young woman entering the bondsman's office. "What's up?"

Arthur Kilpatrick shrugged, his sizeable body jiggling in a way the girl found funny. "Sorry to say sweetheart, but still no jobs for you. You arrived at a bad time...you see, we handle the little criminals. With all the crap going on recently, the terrorist attacks and whatnot, the cops don't care about purse snatchers. No one getting caught means no bail, which means I got nothing for you."

The bounty huntress pouted. "But, but, those things will blow over, right? You told me this place is full of work for a bounty hunter!"

"I also told you the last guy got kidnapped and tortured by a psycho."

"I can take care of myself, Artie! But I can't make a bar tab disappear."

Arthur looked the girl up and down. He preferred bigger cans, but the girl was still too good looking to pay for her own drinks in a town like this. "Now don't take this the wrong way honey, but I bet you could get someone to buy you a drink if you'd stop using your guns and used your...guns. A lot of sleazeballs in this city. Not many of us gentle folk left." He laughed at himself. "Why, I bet you could walk into the Asylum right now and not spend a penny all night."

"Oh, that reminds me! I can't! There's like...some sort of a private party there or something. They wouldn't let me in!"

"Well that's good news for us now, isn't it? Private party means guests drink for free. Free drinks means trouble. Trouble means...opportunity!"

The girl suddenly beamed up. "Ooo! Ooo! Maybe it's some sort of big crime gang working out of the club!"

Arthur shook his head. The girl came highly recommended, but she was hardly what you'd call normal. Not that anyone else was in Santa Monica. "Things like that only happen in movies...or maybe those games kids play these days. We here go after carjackers, not kingpins. Don't think you're Angelina Jolie just cause you've got a gun."

"Artiiiie! Angelina's just an ACTRESS! Lara Croft is the awesome character! And she does NOT hunt crime gangs! She's even cooler than that!" The girl was obviously...inspired by Tomb Raider. She had two guns strapped to her sides, even though she knew very well she could only manage to use one at a time. Still, they looked cool next to her shorts. She liked looking cool, even though she was a bit too ditzy to pull it off.

Artie tried to lead the girl towards the door as gently as he could with that large frame. "Now look, I told you I'll call if I need you. Now go off and try to enjoy yourself. You're too young for a job like this."

The girl objected. "I'm 25! And I DO enjoy it!"

"Exactly. Too young." Arthur opened the door and nudged the girl out. "I'll see you later."

"...And Jen? Think before you act. Losing two hunters in such a short time is bad for business." He closed the door and mumbled to himself. "I'm gettin' soft...maybe I'm just getting too old for all this."

Arthur turned the radio over to KTRK before sitting down. That Deb of Night was pretty entertaining on slow nights. He liked to think she must be cute too. She sounded cute.

But probably not very large cans. Shame.

* * *

[Post 7]

Author : roddyrod

Date : Jun 3 10:31am

Roderick looked at the odd fellow who stood before him with his arm stretched out. _Shit. It's the Malkavian. Or a Malkavian. I'm going to regret this…_ He reluctantly reached out and shook the stranger's hand. "Roderick. But you knew that already, didn't you?"

The stranger looked back at him sheepishly. "I don't think I've ever met someone quite like you, though I'm hardly an expert in the area."

"Whatever you think is wrong. Something in your addled mind seems to have me mixed up with something else," Rod replied coolly. _Hardly the best start._

"Eh?"

"Look. Keep your mind to yourself. There are some things you don't want to know." Rod paused for a moment. "That others don't want you to know. Something they may be willing to end your damned existence to hide." He looked Lothario in the eyes. "Just saying."

The Lunatic seemed almost hurt, but quickly regained his usual composure and a maniacal grin. "I won't make any promises."

"I wouldn't believe them anyway," Rod replied, with a slight smirk on his face. "You asked why I was here." He motioned towards what was quickly becoming one of his least favorite places in Santa Monica, another being the air directly around one particular Ghoul in the medical clinic. "Paying my respects to the new… Prince."

Lothario gained an air of I know something you don't, which unnerved Roderick slightly, though he made every effort not to show it. "One Ms. Therese Voerman?"

"Yes." Rod scrutinized his conversational partner. "You're hiding something."

"You mentioned you don't like Malkavians, right?"

"I didn't." _Am I that transparent? _

"But you don't like Malkavians," Lothario noted, with an ever spreading smile.

"Not really." Rod looked towards the elevator that was sitting innocuously across the way from him. "You're about to tell me something I won't like." _She isn't…_

"You can read my mind?" The Malkavian seemed slightly bemused.

"Damn." _Perhaps… it would have to come out at some point anyway. Maybe she lacks the insight? Should I leave? No… perhaps I'll be ignored._ Rod silently continued staring at the elevator.

"Maybe I should leave?" the other enquired.

"If you want." Rod looked back at his new acquaintance. "Remember what I said: whatever you think you may know, forget it."

"I'll keep that in mind." With that, he walked away with a sense of purpose.

_What have I gotten myself into…?_

* * *

[Post 8]

Author : BurningRave

Date : Jun 3 1:20pm

The low ding of an elevator did little to pierce the music that boomed over the dance floor. Regardless, most of the Kindred in the club turned their attention to the elevator, awaiting the new prince of Santa Monica to show herself. A well-dressed woman walked out towards the dance floor; giving a short greeting to any vampire she passed on the way. The music died down, leaving the floor open for Therese to speak.

Amy, still sitting at the bar, sighed. "So, Jyhad begins. I just want this to be over so I can get out of here and… and…"

"Feed." A voice said while leaning over Amy's shoulder. "You feed when you wish to starve by not feeding. A rather painful, F-FUCK, existence, do you not agree? But where are my manners, Collin Firenze, the tenth Comte du Fromage of Savannah, now Lothario, at your service, my beautiful beast."

It took a moment for the confusion to wear off before Amy realized a Malkavian had snuck up and sparked conversation with her. Before she could wrap her mind about what he said and form a reply, the prince of Santa Monica began to speak.

"Shhh –shh—SHIT!" The Malkavian, Lothario, blurted out as he took a seat on the stool besides Amy. "Our transaction of thoughts must be postponed for the other half of my Death wishes to speak."

"I'm glad to see such a turn out tonight and am especially pleased to see that, despite our differences, some of the local Anarchs have shown up." All other conversations ceased in the Asylum, as to allow the new prince to speak. "Let tonight not be a night of conflict, but a night of peace. I trust that you all will find me a kind prince, so long as you keep trouble out of Santa Monica. If any of you wish to meet with me, tonight would be the night. I suppose our Anarch friends would like to have a rather long meeting with me concerning the events of the past few weeks, and I will meet with them as soon as any other business is taken care of."

As soon as the prince's speech ended, a few of the more anxious kindred approached her, wishing to get on with their night. A small group of Anarchs gathered in the corner of the room to talk amongst themselves. The remainder of the vampires continued with what they were doing before the prince made her appearance.

Amy was reluctant to speak to the prince. Thoughts of blood consumed her mind and she hated herself for not feeding for almost a week. She spent a moment staring ahead at the bottles that lined the wall on the opposite side of the bar, examining the color of each bottle and the way in which they reflected the lights. Lothario spoke, but his words were drowned out by the simplistic beauty of the bottles. When Amy finally managed to turn away from her fascination, she noticed that the Malkavian had left her.

The amount of time that passed while Amy was consumed in thoughts of feeding was lost to her. She had no money to buy blood and no will to force or trick a mortal into sharing his. If she waited too long, she knew that she would lose herself in her cravings and take the blood her body desired. At least, then, it would be the fault of her curse and not herself. She both feared and yearned to be lost in that blood lust.

"Like most of the other young vampires here, you must be new to Santa Monica." Like Lothario, Therese had snuck up on Amy while she was lost in her thoughts.

"Um, yes. Sorry. You're not, uh, busy now, are you?" She was at a loss for words.

"Don't concern yourself with how I spend my time. I am here to speak with you."

Amy forced a smile. "I came from New York after… after my sire left me. I was told I might be able to find a place to fit in here."

Therese looked over the young, pale vampire. "You're alone?"

"Y-yes. I mean, I've been taught about most things, I just, just, have nowhere to stay."

"Do I make you nervous?"

"I'm not use to dealing with… um, vampires with a lot of power."

Therese paused for a moment. "I might be able to use you and give you a place to stay, but understand, this isn't charity. I expect you to be loyal to me. Prove your usefulness, and the Camarilla might just have a place for you."

"Of course. Thank you so much." Amy forced a weak smile. The hunger still bothered her.

"You can stay here until I find that you are useful enough to get you your own place," she paused, "or until you disappoint me."

"You're too kind. You won't regret this."

"Hmm…" Therese looked over Amy once more. "I'm sure that I won't."

The paranoid part of Amy's mind couldn't help but to think that she sounded sarcastic. However, those thoughts were immediately trumped by thoughts of blood.

Before walking away, Therese said one final thing. "You're looking a little pale, Toreador. You should go out and get a drink."

* * *

[Post 9]

Author : roddyrod

Date : Jun 3 9:10pm

Roderick glanced at the conversation between the Prince of Santa Monica and one particularly attractive young woman. He reasoned that it was probably a Toreador. A Degenerate, as he had heard them referred to. He looked back at the Prince. _So. That's her. She doesn't look particularly… particularly… insane. _Rod slowly approached the Prince as she walked around the Asylum, wondering what exactly to say, but she saved him the trouble of that.

"Greetings Kindred. I assume that you aren't approaching me for idle conversation?" She inquired before he could say anything.

"Indeed… With my sire's death, I've found myself in something of an uncomfortable situation, and, to be perfectly honest, I need to gather some favor with the Camarilla, and I thought that you, as the new Prince of Santa Monica, might need some assistance," Rod replied, deciding that it would be best to take care of business as soon as possible.

Therese looked him up and down, studying his formal—if slightly outdated—attire. "I see. Then your choice was indeed a prudent one. True, there are various tasks that I need taken care of, while I consolidate my grasp over Santa Monica. You're a Ventrue, correct?"

_She… well, this is lucky._ "Yes." Roderick made every effort to conceal his relief, and surprise.

"Good. I have need of someone of your particular… talents," she said, looking at him slyly.

"I assume you mean Dominate. I'm not particularly skilled in that, or anything."

"Perhaps not yet." She paused for a moment. "I'm sure that you'll prove useful in time. But first, are you willing to do whatever it is I ask?"

"Within reason. Every shred of humanity is precious after all."

"Surely you don't think that I'd make you do something like that?"

"I prefer not to make assumptions. They've gotten me in trouble in the past."

"You'll be useful yet, Kindred, but for now, you'll have to excuse me." She began to walk away, "You'll hear from me in time, rest assured."

_That wasn't so bad._

* * *

[Post 10]

Author : lothario

Date : Jun 3 9:15pm

Although he was trying to be subtle, Lothario watched with a little too much of what could be described as "rapt attention" to the exchange between Prince Voerman and the girl Amy, the young kindred he had tried talking to before. Low, urgent whispers breathed into his ears, and with only a moment's hesitation, he called upon the surge of supernatural blood inside of him to gather into his eyes as he watched the Prince mutter one last thing to Amy that seemed to leave her a bit shaken.

A roar filled his mind, as Lothario's power of Auspex rose into his vision, and then he saw that the whispers had been right, as they oftentimes were. It had been a very long time since Amy had last fed, and despite her brave "game-face", she was close to losing control. Her purple aura was washed throughout by streaks of red that clung to her abdomen, and Lothario smiled to himself as he thought of the now-useless organs in there, and that had her stomach still been alive, it would probably be growling as loud as a jet engine. She must truly be possessed of a great strength of will to have lasted this long already.

But the whispers spoke of guilt, and Lothario nodded silently as he let go of the Auspex and regarded Amy with a sad smile.

"It doesn't have to be that way, Amy." The pretty girl blinked suddenly at Lothario's words, and then she frowned slightly and glanced at the door leading outside before replying.

"You don't know me."

"I know what you need, and how you go about getting it... it's killing you a little bit inside, you know... every time that the monster gains control. Don't you worry about it taking hold of you forever?" Her eyes flashed for an instant in defiant anger, but then she seemed to relent, and then Lothario found himself being drawn into her world, seemingly feeling her pain inside of him, and the vulnerability in her eyes captivated him in a way that he had never felt before.

He had previously scoffed at his new moniker, Lothario, it being more of an inside joke with Jeanette more than anything else, as he was always clumsy in social situations, and had barely even had a girlfriend before his embrace. Perhaps his awkwardness around women was what attracted Jeanette's attention in the first place...

But here, now... looking into the wounded Toreador's eyes, he suddenly felt uplifted and emboldened. A small fire began to burn in Lothario's chest as he stared unabashedly at Amy and spoke in an avalanche of words.

"I can get it for you - I can get many things for you, you don't need to give in to the monster any more - let me help you... please." She offered him a slight smile in reply, and opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly Lothario was gripped by another one of his "fits" that seized his entire body as he blurted out helplessly.

"BATSHIT! BLOODY BATSHIT!" Coughing nervously, Lothario gave her an embarrassed smile, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Sorry... I have an embarrassing problem with tics, I'm afraid. It causes me no end of grief.

* * *

**Author's Comment:** Here we have one of Flint's few posts before he decided to leave. His ditzy bounty huntress never made it far in the story and remained one of the few, if not the only character never to be mentioned again following her writer's departure.

Flint certainly had a way with writing for the established Bloodlines' NPCs, like Arthur up there.

Therese had three different people writing for her, and I think we all did a fantastic job at maintaining her character across posts.

Also, I think one of the reasons I like Roderick so much is because of his constant internal monologue. It really helps establish his character, and never fails to be interesting.

**roddy's Comment: **Good ol' Flint. One of the original four, though he didn't write much. A shame.

I like these two entries of mine. They were short, yes, but that in itself allowed me to keep them from wandering too much. The first entry here also introduced the trend of me ignoring Lothario's particular trait (the character's, that is) of spouting out obscenities. At first I just forgot, but I eventually explained it away as it being part of writing from Roderick's perspective; he didn't pay much mind to those things. I think I made mention of the fact in one of my later entries.


	4. Our Story Begins Nights 1 And 2 Part 3

[Post 11]

Author : BurningRave

Date : Jun 3 11:25pm

"Don't worry," Amy found herself saying after Lothario apologized for his uncontrolled burst of swearing. "Compared to some other Malkavians I've dealt with, your tics are quite tame."

She wanted to take the conversation away from focusing on her. Once more, she glanced at the door. He knew about her hunger and her sin. Amy feared that if she continued talking with him, the deranged voices of his curse would uncover more of her inner demons, jeopardizing everything she had been sent out to do. She stood up.

"You know others like myself?" Lothario asked, not sure whether he should move out of Amy's way, or take a step towards her.

At this point, Amy realized that referencing Gerard and Mira to him was probably a mistake. "Yes, well… no. Er, not anymore…" She began feeling nervous, having enough trouble lying to vampires who can't get glimpses into her mind. "I have to go."

Finally making up his mind, Lothario stepped before the young Toreador. "Don't feed the beast by avoiding your nature. Please, let me help you."

"You're sweet," Amy looked off to the side and rubbed the back of her neck, "I didn't expect to run into such kindness tonight."

"You run from the beast as well as the point of this conversation. B-BITCH." Lothario took a step back and immediately began to apologize. "I'm terribly sorry…"

Amy didn't know whether to laugh or flee. In the end, she wound up standing silently. She was so hungry, and the Malkavian's offer for blood tempted her.

"Stay right here, tormented beauty, and I will bring you what you want."

It hurt. She felt empty and cold, starving and alone. "What I want? Can you bring me my humanity back? Can you make me feel again? No! You lie!" Amy shouted, losing herself in her hunger. "Of course not, you just want to feed me. And where would that blood come from? Do you plan on tricking some poor fool into meeting me here so than I may drain him to the brink of death like the leech I am?"

"The beast…" Lothario muttered, feeling somewhat worried. Her pain was growing, and the voices in his head made sure to make that obvious.

"You don't have a damn clue, do you? Do you ever stop to think about how it must feel to be fed upon? Do you ever even consider that we're just damned monsters lurking in the darkness?" No more thoughts entered her mind. She was lost. "Have you ever stood and marveled at the color of their flesh when they're drained? The color of blood… You're probably too batshit insane to even begin to understand what it's like to envy the kine!"

Without thinking, as conscious thought was well beyond her grasp, Amy lashed out and grabbed Lothario's shoulders. "We're ****ing monsters, you lunatic! That's all we are! Monsters!" She attempted to shove him aside, which only caused Lothario to stumble.

Not only was the Malkavian staring at her in curious shock, but Amy had gathered the attention of most other supernaturals in the room. Immediately she felt vulnerable and weak.

"I—I have to…" She stormed past Lothario towards the front door of the Asylum, only to collide in to another vampire.

The vampire, seeming to be a Ventrue, looked down at Amy as she struggled to gather herself. "That's just what Santa Monica needs. A completely unstable Toreador."

Amy was torn between wanting to flee and wanting to tear his throat our and drink his tainted blood from the floor. She managed to ignore his words and run by, leaving the chaos of the Asylum to continue without her. Surely, the other creatures of the night that remained behind would criticize and judge her while she was gone. Her outburst, no doubt, put great strain on her mission. Nevertheless, Amy had little time to think of how the prince would react to the scene she had created. She felt so miserable and hungry. So hungry.

The cool night air acted as a welcome relief to the stuffy atmosphere of the Asylum, but it did little to alter the disaster in Amy's thoughts. Humans stood all around her, tempting her lips to wrap around their necks. She ran into the closest alleyway, around the back of the club and collapsed on the ground.

"I'm so… so stupid." Amy got to her knees, staring down at the ground.

"I'll say. God damn, you Degenerates can be such nut jobs when you want to be." A mocking voice seemed to come out of the shadows. Its twisted words pierced Amy's dead heart. "You're not human anymore. Get over it."

Amy wished that she could feel tears against her cheeks. "Shut up! Please, just shut up!"

"Or else what, Princess? Why don't you go paint a picture or something?" The voice turned to laughter. "Oh, right. You can't anymore, can you? I'm sorry; I just really enjoy shoving the harsh truth into your sweet face."

"I hate you." The words fell from Amy's lips like lead weights.

"Do you? How can you be sure you don't love me? Come on, get over yourself." More laughter. "I'd say something comforting like, 'Aw, there, there, you poor thing. Don't worry, you're still very much human,' but frankly, I couldn't care less if you decided to stay outside wallowing until sunrise."

Amy was speechless. How she longed to feel alive again. It tormented her.

"Oh well. I got my laugh for the night." The voice snorted. "I'll just go back and tell Erik how much of a fuck up his slave is. With any luck, he'll turn his back on you and I'll never have to see your sickening face again."

The sound of a manhole lid being pulled closed echoed through the alley and then there was only the silence of the city. Amy crawled to a wall and sat against it, her arms crossed over her knees and her head bowed. She thought about what Daniel said about Erik and immediately began to worry about losing him. Misery twisted in her mind almost as much as hunger twisted in her body.

"Mm, aren't you just the sweetest." The voice of a young woman broke the silence as a couple turned the corner.

Amy looked up as a couple stood only a few feet down from where she sat. They were lost in the pleasures of a mortal kiss and never noticed the starving vampire. However, she noticed them and couldn't help but to stare with envy and hunger. Mostly hunger. Everything else was forgotten except for the hunger. It felt wonderful.

* * *

[Post 12]

Author : lothario

Date : Jun 4 8:33pm

Lothario watched Amy leave Asylum in a huff, and despite the fact that there were still kindred to meet and greet, and owing in part to the fact that Jeanette wasn't there, he suddenly didn't care to stay around anymore. Besides, the heady scent of Amy's suffering lingered in the air, filling his nostrils with the sweet, delicate odor of loss, and like a bloodhound chasing down the trail of a missing child, Lothario left Asylum and followed her outside.

He hadn't gotten far - little more than around the corner from the front doors, when Loth ducked down behind a dumpster in the alleyway and called up the power of his Obfuscation to hide himself from the deeply mocking voice that left Amy shaken, and then, finally alone. Thinking to comfort his damaged flower somehow, he reached out a cautious and invisible hand towards her, but then her head snapped up at the sound of a young mortal couple who spilled into the alleyway to kiss and fondle each other.

Cursing slightly - on purpose, for once - Lothario saw the dangerous gleam in Amy's eyes, and at that moment, he knew that if he didn't intervene quickly, the humans would certainly meet their doom. Her fangs were fully exposed as she opened her mouth in a lustful sigh, drinking in the sight of the fresh, thumping blood that giggled and clutched at each other not twenty paces away.

A low, guttural growl escaped from Amy's full, perfect lips, and Lothario's eyes opened in surprise as she blazed past him with supernatural speed, knocking the young man away from his date, and sunk her fangs into the man's neck with an animalistic snarl. Wasting no time, Loth silenced the mortal girl's shriek with a gong of his Dementated madness, causing the scream to die in her throat and instead emerge as a choking sob, as she clutched at her throat and helplessly stammered a stream of quiet, whispered obscenities. Ignoring the horrid slurping noises from Amy, Lothario kept his focus upon the girl, watching her for a second as she looked up at him in despair. Quietly approaching the young lady, he shook his head sadly and whispered into her ear.

"Don't worry, darling... this won't hurt."

Loth grabbed at the girl's arms roughly, pinning them to her sides, and as she was held under the spell of his madness, she was unable to resist him as he gave a savage growl and buried his mouth into the tender flesh of her neck. He drank deeply, each spurt of her lifeblood warming and tickling his throat, and when he had drawn off enough of her to daze her memory, he shoved her down into the street and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, looking over to where Amy had pulled the man down to the pavement of the alleyway, and now straddled him.

"Amy... that's enough." Giving no response, his vampire companion continued to suck noisily and greedily at the poor man, and Lothario raised his voice.

"Amy! That's enough!" Striding over to her, Loth grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her body off of the helpless young man, tossing Amy aside to tumble to the ground and into a heap of garbage lining the dirty wall of the alley. She was immediately on her feet with an angry snake-like hiss, and Loth noted that her face was smeared with blood that ran down into the front of her shirt as well.

"Get control of it, Amy! You've had more than enough! Look at you! You're... C-C-COCKSUCKER! You're like a Friday the 13th sequel!" Loth watched the turmoil in her eyes, and then she finally regained her senses, the fresh blood giving Amy some semblance of control over her Beast. With a tiny sob, she gazed down at her handiwork, and Loth gave her a worried frown and knelt down to the man, who was still breathing, but wouldn't have lasted much longer. Touching a fingertip to his fangs, Loth carried a few drops of his own blood down to close the gruesome wounds on the man's neck, and listened to Amy's hasty and tear-filled retreat into the darkness, her footsteps echoing off of the dirty brick walls of the alleyway.

He let her go, shaking his head slightly in dismay as he surveyed the damage of their assault. The kine would live, although the male would definitely have a monster headache tomorrow. With a grunt, Lothario grabbed under the man's shoulders and dragged him to the wall where his girlfriend lay dazed and unconscious. Yes, these kine would live... but what should he do about his blood-flower? Brushing his hands down his long, velvet coat, Lothario stood and gazed down the alley where Amy had vanished into the darkness. The night was still young, and the lingering scent in the air spoke of tragedy. She wouldn't last long if she kept giving in to her Beast - but in a way, maybe it was best that way. Some people aren't built to last for eternity. Still, the whispers in his ears urged him to follow her, and the warmth of the fresh blood in his body encouraged him to continue. The thought of Amy meeting her Final Death saddened what was left of Lothario's heart, and with a smirk, he took off after the young Toreador.

Who knows what trouble she would find next? Maybe he could find some way to convince her to stay with him, where he could watch over her... until she sank or swam. Jeanette would know what to do. If he could keep Amy alive long enough to meet with his sire, then everything would be okay.

Yes... everything was going to be just fine.

* * *

[Post 13]

Author : roddyrod

Date : Jun 4 10:29pm

_She's trouble,_ Roderick thought as he watched the red-headed Toreador run out of the Asylum. Not long after that disgraceful gesture, he noticed Lothario leaving too; _hardly a coincidence_. He didn't trust the Toreador to not do something stupid, having noted previously that she seemed to have not fed in a while; and he didn't trust the Malkavian to be entirely stable in case something did happen. Rod pondered for a moment the prudence of following, and then proceeded to do so. If nothing else, it would spare him further exposure to the noises of the madhouse.

Once outside, he spent a moment simply enjoying the night, almost forgetting why he left in the first place. He was broken from his thoughts by the sounds of what may have been a scream coming from the adjacent alley. It ended abruptly, replaced by a low sob; not difficult to notice with his supernatural hearing. He contemplated whether it would be sensible to approach; if the Toreador had indeed frenzied, he wouldn't want to be there. In the end he figured that he could hold his own if push came to shove, and moved down the alley.

By the time he reached the part of the alley behind the Asylum he saw Lothario running away. _Maybe that's a good thing._ He then noticed the two kine propped up against the wall, both looking rather pale. _Will they remember?_ he wondered, never fully understanding how that worked, preferring to take his victims unaware. He decided against killing them; the risk to his remaining Humanity would be too great, and he had enough trouble fitting in with humans without a reflection as it was.

His thoughts flitted back to the Toreador. If she couldn't keep control of herself, she would be too much of a danger to the Masquerade, and if she were to meet her Final Death in a public place; that would be a problem. The Prince did approach her however, so he wondered if maybe he was underestimating her. He decided to let it go. She meant nothing to him, and he had no wish to waste any more time thinking about her. The night was nearing its end, and he had no more left to do until contacted by Therese.

He walked to one of the nearby parking lots where he left his car, a black Ferrari that he inherited a few decades back. Considering the general nightlife of Santa Monica, he left one of his ghouls, a rather unmemorable guy (who he had change his name to John Smith) with it while he attended to business.

"Still in one piece?" Rod asked.

"Some toughs were hanging around for a while, but I _accidentally_ revealed the sawed-off I've been toting around and they scampered off," he replied, almost monotonously.

"Excellent. Let's go," Rod ordered, and entered the passenger seat. John took the driver's seat, started the car up, and they left.

There were several advantages to having some sphere of influence in life. While he could no longer run his businesses as he used to, a well-placed ghoul or two served his purposes amiably. One such ghoul was the owner of one five-star hotel in Santa Monica: a source of income for the vampire, and a haven. After all, he didn't like to settle for second-best.

* * *

[Post 14]

Author : Flint_A

Date : Jun 5 12:58am

The shaggy Gangrel squatting on a table laughed and snarled, showing a mouth full of sharp teeth. "Well, this wasn't a TOTAL waste of time...always fun to see a Toreador break down." He also enjoyed watching most Malkavians, but his friends knew that anyway. He wouldn't have bothered to come if he didn't hope Jeanette would show up.

Jack chuckled with him. "He he he...poor girl. Won't last a month here."

Damsel looked at the Gangrel with contempt. "Don't know, Jack. If our growling friend here hasn't gotten himself killed yet, anyone can survive. Ugh, can you at least get down here and stand up like a PERSON?"

As a response, he just licked his teeth and smirked. "Come now, sweetheart. We're all animals, even the kine. I'm just...a little more in touch with it. It's the Gangrel way."

"Oh, please! Skelter's a Gangrel and he's normal. You're just using it as an excuse to have no manners, creep!"

Skelter snorted. "Keep me out of this, sister. I would have showed him what's the Gangrel way if Nines didn't like him. What kind of an idiot doesn't even use a name? The Coyote, my ass."

Jack laughed. "Nines doesn't like him, I do. The kid's almost as funny as a Malkavian. He imagines himself Beckett's protégé, can you believe it? He he...like that ol' bookworm would look twice at a thug like you." A slap across the back was answered by the Gangrel's snarling, but he was too smart to lift a hand to Jack. Besides, he was the coolest of the bunch.

"Hey now, Beckett and I are old friends!"

"Old friends? Puh-lease! You've been a vampire for what now, a decade?"

He snarled at Damsel. That bitch was annoying. "Nooo...it's been longer than that! Yeah, alright, I'm not ancient like Smiling Jack over there, but it's been long in human years!"

Nines sighed. "Kid, everything's long in human years. In this city, they change five jobs and two marriages in a decade. Now be quiet. We brought you here so you can watch the Malkavian, not start a fight with Damsel."

Damsel smirked and turned away. "Hmph, looks like you won't get to see the slut anyway. I bet that stuck-up Cammy bitch tied her up somewhere."

"Well, duh."

Damsel turned to face him again. "What do you mean, duh?"

"They're the same person! Seriously, twin Malkavians? Get real."

Skelter raised an eyebrow. "Motherfucker's tellin' some tall tales."

Nines pushed himself away from the wall. "You got any proof, kid?"

"Grah...noooo, but Beckett told me!"

"Psh, right! Jack, can you believe this?"

Jack shrugged and crossed his arms nonchalantly. "I knew it."

Damsel's mouth dropped. "Wait, so it's true?"

Skelter shook his head. "Fucking crazy bitch."

The Gangrel half-laughed half-snarled again. "See! I told you! Thanks Jack!"

"Yeah, well, I still don't believe Beckett talks to you kid. Gotta hand it to you though, you ain't one for skulduggery."

"Hmph. Whatever. I'm gonna go try to get Jeanette to come out!" The self-proclaimed Coyote hopped off the table and dashed through the club on all fours. He stood up when he got to Therese, but his hunch still made him look like a hyena.

Damsel turned to Jack. "I bet he gets slapped within five minutes."

Chuckling, Jack shook his head. "Fool's bet. Kid's got no finesse."

Skelter snorted. "Ain't got no brains either."

A painful howl sounded through the room, managing to cut through the music that was turned back up after Therese's speech.

Nines sighed and leaned against the wall again. "Looks like you underestimated her, Damsel."

Jack grinned. "He he he...gotta admit though, a knee to the crotch IS more effective than a slap."

Damsel smirked at the Gangrel hopping around with his hands on his crotch. "She's alright...for a Cammy."

Nines closed his eyes. "Enough fun for one night. One Prince gone, two to take his place. The bastards are worse than cockroaches. Someone pick that idiot up, we're leaving. Party's over."

* * *

[Post 15]

Author : lothario

Date : Jun 5 1:06am

2:37 am, The Penthouse Suite of the Piedmont Hotel, Downtown LA

Gorgana stretched languidly on the plush sofa, and stroked her long, painted fingernails down the stomach of her pet chihuahua, Pixiedust. The tiny ghouled creature gave a little shiver of delight, and Gorgana smiled at the sight of Pixiedust losing herself in the rapture of her Mistress' touch. Although the little monster seemed harmless enough, Gorgana had enjoyed watching the bloodthirsty beast tear out the throat of one of her more recently failed lieutenants, a particularly noisome Gangrel Antitribu whose ashes now adorned an urn on her mantle. The fool had made too many mistakes, and his blood was forfeit. But then again, Marcus had been just as much of a fool to entrust the security of the former Sabbat warehouse to the Gangrel, and when news reached her ears of Marcus' Final Death at the hands of the mysterious Kindred who had taken down LaCroix and then vanished into the woodwork, she had felt a tiny and uncharacteristic pang of regret. It had been a shame... Gorgana had been looking forward to destroying Marcus herself for so many years, and now some nameless upstart had stolen that satisfaction from her.

Gorgana was broken from her dark musings by the buzz of the videocom screen next to the sofa, and she pushed Pixiedust out of her lap to sit up and reply.

"What is it?"

"Mistress... contact has been established with Santa Monica. Our plant reports that everything went smoothly, and now he is awaiting further orders." Clicking her blood-red fingernails briefly on the glass coffee table, Gorgana suddenly smiled.

"No change. We didn't anticipate this, but perhaps this will work out in a different way. Have him continue as instructed, and when the time is right, we will put him in play once again. Hmm... I need time to think... could the Camarilla fools really be so easily duped? I smell plans within plans..."

"I'm sorry, Mistress?"

"Nevermind, Roger. I need you to check up on our holdings in Hollywood. Watch out for Isaac's ghouls, as we discussed before. They are old, and not to be underestimated."

"Yes, Mistress."

"And Roger? Do try to keep the rabble in line a little better this time. I would hate for you to end up as one of Pixiedust's victims like the late Mr. Travis." There was a poignant pause before her agent replied.

"Of course, Mistress."

The screen went blank, and Gorgana summoned her little dog back into her lap. Pixiedust gave a throaty snarl of joy as she hopped up and nuzzled into Gorgana's stomach, and then the vampire smiled as she resumed her petting. So the Fool's Errand had worked out after all... interesting. Rather than pluck this thorn from her side, she could twist it around and plant it into her enemy. The time for the LA showdown was quickly approaching, and her allies along the eastern seaboard had met with nearly unmitigated success. Now all that remained was to deliver the west coast into her master's hands, and the United States would belong to the Sabbat. The destruction of bishop Andrei had been a regrettable loss which slowed her progress, but soon she would have her pieces back into place, and then the battle for Los Angeles could finally begin.

* * *

**Author's Comment: **Here's the first time I start mentioning some other of my characters and give insight into Amy's background. I like how I managed to leave a lot of what was going on with her untold, only to be revealed later in the story as opposed to mentioning it right at the get-go.

Also, Flint does another wonderful job with established Bloodlines characters. It's kind of a shame that, aside from their names, he never described them, which could prove moderately annoying for anyone who hasn't played Bloodlines. Then again, Google is your friend .

I didn't think Loth brought up Gorgana this early, but apparently I was wrong.

I'll leave comments on roddy's little part up to him to post. I will say, though, that it's intersting to see how he handled the first appearance of his ghoul.

**roddy's Comment:** Huh. I just noticed Amy's comment about Lothario's tics being fairly mild. I guess I paid it no heed back when I first read this, but it actually makes sense now. Neat.

Now, this entry... it was pretty alright. I noticed a few pieces of punctuation that seemed out of place. No biggie. Anyway, this was the introduction of Roderick's Ghoul, John. I still hadn't settled on a personality for him here, but he doesn't get many lines so it isn't a problem. I thought he ended up rather fun a character. Also it painted what would appear to be a trend that Roderick would be chauffeured around by John, with the latter guarding the car, but I eventually dropped that. Something about using "the older car" or thereabouts. Unattended Ferrari + World of Darkness = bad idea. I think the older car ended up being a Ferrari anyway. I don't even know.

One final thing. Gorgana mentions a plant in Santa Monica. Way back when that was first written, Loth PMed me about it. We talked a little about that, about Roderick possibly being thought the spy, or perhaps his sire not actually being dead. I suggested that Bertram was a possible suspect, based on a few things I don't entirely remember. That, of course, went absolutely nowhere.


	5. Our Story Begins Nights 1 And 2 Part 4

[Post 16]

Author : BurningRave

Date : Jun 5 2:11am

Licking her lips clean of blood, Amy stopped before leaving the secrecy of the alleys. The hunger had subsided and she felt in control again. Tormented, but in control. The awakened beast offered relief from her troubled soul, allowing her to focus on her mission. She knew that she had to return to the Asylum, that she couldn't just run away. Erik wouldn't accept her failure. She had to make it work.

"Alright Amy…" She said aloud to herself, trying to collect her thoughts, "Things are bad, but you can fix them. You have to fix them. That Malakavian…" She paused, looking at the darkness behind her, half expecting to see Lothario standing there, "Why does he care so much?"

"SHHHIITTT!" The profanity echoed off the walls of the alley.

Amy looked down at her shirt and tried to wipe the blood from her clothes. What little blood actually wiped off, she licked from her hands, wishing that she had an extra shirt so she didn't have to be reminded of her sin.

"Beautiful beast," Lothario came from the shadows and approached the Toreador.

She looked down at the ground and sighed. "Th-thanks for… stopping me." It was very important for Amy to concentrate. She had put so much in jeopardy. If Lothario had found out anything about her true nature or her past, all would be lost.

"A rose who's pricked by her own thorns. Let me help you. Come back to the Asylum with me." Lothario seemed almost as if he was pleading, as if he felt concerned for Amy's well being.

Part of her felt bad for what she was about to do, but she had been sent to be an actor, and her love for Erik meant more to her than the feelings of some Malkavian she had known for only an hour. "Can you really help me? I feel so… so alone and abandoned. I made such a mess and the prince is probably upset. She'll kick me out and I won't have anywhere to go."

While speaking, Amy thought of the miseries in her past, of the times she cried as a mortal. Her voice began to choke. The remnants of the emotions in her past filled her thoughts. "I don't have a sire. I don't have any friends… I need to fit in here or else… or else I might as well face my final sunrise."

Lothario took a couple of steps towards Amy and extended his arm, pulling back slightly, as if he was nervous. "Don't worry. My sire will understand. Come, let us speak with her. I won't have you lost to the sun, tormented rose." He placed his hand on the Toreador's arm.

After her entrance to the world of darkness, Amy had grown all too familiar with infatuation. Kine often seemed fascinated by her presence, which lead to many a night trying to gain a satisfaction from their emotions. It made her feel close to human again.

Although not much for persuasion, she found that she could manipulate others through their feelings for her, often doing so as a way to play into the role of a mortal. In this case, she was glad that the Malkavian's focus was directed towards her well-being.

"You won't let anything happen to me, will you?" Yes, she played his apparent interest in her. It tore her up inside to do such a thing, wishing not to mess with the emotions of others in such a way, but she had a feeling that Lothario could help smooth the entire situation out with Therese. In the end, she needed that more than she needed to adhere to her own moral code.

"Of course not, PISSS-FUCKER!" He pulled his arm back and coughed. "Sorry. These damn tics come up at the worst times."

Amy smiled. "It's okay." She paused and looked into Lothario's eyes. "Thanks… for everything." She tried so hard not to think about what she was doing. She wanted to get lost in her role, in her feigned emotions, so that part of her could believe they were real.

Lothario returned the smile. "My pleasure, beautiful beast. Everything will be alright." He lingered for a moment, returning Amy's gaze, before turning to walk back to the club.

Watching him walk away, Amy paused, regretting having to use her new friend. She sighed and ran to catch up with him, keeping her lover in her mind for emotional support, to make everything a little more bearable.

* * *

[Post 17]

Author : BurningRave

Date : Jun 5 3:02am

"Lousy Toreador. I'll gladly take living in the sewers over their fascination with beauty and kine." The Nosferatu who had confronted Amy only moments ago was now trudging through the sewers back to his haven.

"Bah!" He spat into the dirty waters. "If they spent half as much time as they do staring at pretty things and adoring kine, maybe they'd actually be useful for something."

Daniel chuckled to himself. "That's funny. A useful Degenerate."

Casually, he ran forward and swiped a rat off the ground. He plunged his twisted fangs into the helpless creature, completely draining it of blood before and tossing the carcass in with the rest of the filth that floated beside him.

It took Daniel only a day to get familiar with the sewer system. A week later and he knew the tunnels like the back of his hand. What would have taken any other Kindred close to an hour; he found his way to his haven in less than twenty-five minutes.

"Dearies, the Lord Of Shadows has arrived with news of our oh so favorite Toreador, Dumbass Bitch." A deranged grin crossed Daniel's mouth as he walked into the haven, a basement to an abandoned apartment building downtown.

Discarded furniture laid scattered about the main room. A small television stood across from a couch in the far corner of the room. A few cots had been set up on the right hand side and a table, standing on three legs and a stack of old books, stood on the left hand side, surrounded by two lawn chairs, a bar stool and a shredded recliner. Several doorways led to other rooms in the basement, most of which were empty.

Sitting in front of the television were two very pale vampires. They sat beside each other, perfectly still, staring at the black screen. Daniel approached them from the side.

"Where's Mr. Leader?"

The female vampire remained quiet while the male slowly turned his head towards the Nosferatu.

"I don't know." He spoke with a voice similar to that of Daniel's, sarcastic and scratchy. "Something tells me you've got some wonderful news about his little bitch though. Please tell me I'm right."

Daniel laughed. "Ah, Gerard. You're one of the few Lunatics I can handle talking to. Mainly because talking to you is like talking to myself. And I love myself."

Gerard laughed in the same twisted manner that Daniel laughed when he had mocked Amy. "King High and Mighty is in his chambers."

Daniel thanked Gerard and walked away. The Malkavian turned back to the black screen and continued to sit with his sister in demented silence.

"Knock knock, Boss." Daniel waltzed into Erik's room as if he owned the place. "Princess is fucking up big time. Might I recommend staking her and leaving her out for the sun?"

Despite the appearance of the haven, Erik dressed in a manner suited for those of the high class. He resembled a Ventrue in both appearance and manner. Sitting at a desk, flipping through the pages of a book, he replied to his Nosferatu servant.

"Might I recommend you show a bit more respect for that sweet Toreador, lest I decide to leave you out for the sun." He closed the book and stood up, turning to face Daniel.

"Heh…" Daniel forced a nervous grin. "Fine, fine. You're the boss, though I doubt you'll like what I have to report."

"I'll be the judge of whether I like your news or not."

"Princess there let her hunger go just a little too far. She pretty much lost it right in the middle of the meeting." There was a pause of silence. Daniel shifted uncomfortably in place, waiting for Erik's response.

"Oh? How did the Camarilla Kindred take it?" He was surprisingly calm given the circumstances.

"Last I saw, the prince seemed quite aggravated by our little Degenerate's lack of control." Daniel enjoyed saying that.

"I have faith in her." Erik said, now pacing.

Daniel sneered. "I don't know why. She's a poor excuse for a vampire."

"Did you just question me, Daniel?" Erik never looked at the Nosferatu, simply walking back and forth.

"Oh no, Boss." Daniel couldn't help but to be slightly sarcastic. "I have nothing but faith in your choice of a saboteur."

Erik laughed. "Good. And here I thought that you might think that you are more fit to lead than myself."

The Nosferatu waved his hand in the air and turned to walk away. "Hell no. I know that I'm no leader. fuck that headache." He began to walk out of the room.

"Oh Daniel." Erik said, stopping him in his tracks.

"Yes, Boss?"

"I want you to go check on her tomorrow night."

"Figures." Daniel scoffed and walked out of the room. "Fucking Degenerate."

* * *

[Post 18]

Author : lothario

Date : Jun 5 3:55am

The Prince of Santa Monica gave a cold stare to the Gangrel whelp that had dared to touch her, but seeing the cadre of Anarchs he was accompanied by, she relented before butchering the insolent bastard right there in front of everybody. As the gang of them got up to leave, she noticed Jack giving her an appraising eye, and she raised an eyebrow in reply. The ruffian took a last drag on his cigar, and tossed it carelessly over his shoulder, leaving the burning stump of the stogie spinning on the bare floor of her club.

"Animal," muttered Therese under her breath. Putting her hands on her hips, she motioned to Vandal to take care of the Anarch's mess, and then found a relatively quiet corner to "apply her makeup". When she flipped open the compact mirror in her hand, the pig-tailed vision of her sister sprang into her reflection. Keeping her voice barely loud enough to be heard, Jeanette gave her an urgent look from the mirror.

"Something's not right, Therese... the hivemind has been whispering the word 'subversion' over and over for the past few minutes. It's a warning, darling... something's not right." Therese rolled her eyes.

"How is that different from any other night, Jeanette? This afterlife is one calamity that falls into another one."

"I'm being serious, Therese! The enemy is at the gate!" Jeanette stopped suddenly, seeming to consider something, and then spoke again from the mirror.

"Maybe the enemy WAS at the gate, but isn't any more? Well, whatever it is, it's not good."

Therese nodded, not discarding her sister's special connection to the voices that she herself was deaf to, but not necessarily ready to admit this as a weakness to her sister. Although the two of them made a strange pair on paper, in practice, having the ability to retreat from the madness that ran through Jeanette's mind had been a valuable tool over the years, and had made it possible for them to rise in power, an accomplishment crowned by the fact that she now had control of her own city, a rare enough phenomenon for any kindred, but even more unlikely for a Malkavian.

"Oh wait, Therese... my childe is coming, and that little Toreador, too. Try to be nice, okay? I like him... he's... funny." Therese shrugged and replied before closing the mirror in her hand.

"I'll never understand what you saw in that awkward goofball, my dear sister... he probably won't last the week."

"Ahem."

Therese slowly turned, favoring the mismatched pair of young kindred standing behind her with a half-smile.

"You're back." The Toreador twittered attractively, as she was designed to, and Therese smiled inwardly at the youngster's insecurity. Of course, it was all probably an act, but that didn't matter.

"Yes, my Prince... I wish to... apologize for my behavior earlier." Therese narrowed her eyes as she gazed at the girl, and after a few moments she nodded.

"You would do well to heed your hunger better in the future. I will not abide a Kindred in my city who loses control of herself. There is a reason we have a Masquerade, and if its laws are violated, I will have your blood." Therese paused for an instant before continuing, "Do I make myself clear?" The girl nodded energetically, seemingly careful to keep her eyes averted out of shame, and Therese noted the youngster's skill with appearances. Already, the Prince was calculating how such ability could be useful in certain negotiations she had coming up in the next night or so, and Therese finally reached out a cold hand to touch the girl on the shoulder.

"You will be fine, Amy... but don't let such a display happen in an Elysium again... it is unseemly. If you find it a problem to feed, I'm sure your companion there would be more than happy to assist."

Her sister's childe perked up at this suggestion, and Therese caught the split-second harried look in Amy's eyes before the girl gave Lothario an uneasy smile. The young Malkavian seemed about to say something, but Therese interrupted him... more out of a sense of rescuing the Toreador from the clumsiness of his reply, than from any real need to speak.

"If the two of you will excuse me? I have business to attend to. There are apartments nearby for you, Amy... Lothario can show you where they are." There was a grateful look in Amy's eyes as she replied with a bow of her head.

"Yes, my Prince."

"AHH SH-SHIT!"

* * *

[Post 19]

Author : roddyrod

Date : Jun 5 4:44am

The drive back to the hotel took longer than it would have taken were John driving alone, but Roderick insisted on avoiding the larger roads, the ones with no buildings right next to them. This was no problem for the ghoul, who quite enjoyed driving a car that would cost more to repair than his life insurance was worth before he met Rod, and it was a matter of peace of mind for the vampire. Just as some people are afraid of the dark, or others of snakes, he had a crippling fear of large open spaces. While the car itself was enough to keep him from having an attack, there was always the chance that he would have to evacuate due to some emergency, and that was enough to warrant the precaution.

"I don't trust them," the Kindred said to no-one in particular as they neared their home. "Perhaps I should simply avoid meeting in public whenever possible."

The ghoul glanced at his master. "You said they aren't looking for you."

"As far as I know, they aren't. But I know there are others that can tell your clan." He looked up at the moon through the windshield. "I met a Malkavian there. He noticed something, I know that much. But does he know? I can't say. I hate that, not knowing things."

The conversation was interrupted by John hitting the brakes abruptly in response to a car that was in front of them suddenly stopping. "The hell?"

"Just go around. I'm not in the mood to get confrontational."

"Alright then." John proceeded to do as instructed. "So. What about the Prince?"

"She's also a Malkavian." He shook his head. "Either she lacks the insight, or decided to ignore it. Either way, as far as I know, she thinks I'm Ventrue, and that's fine with me."

"That secret won't last, and when it breaks?"

"I know that!" Roderick interrupted. "I know. I'm just hoping that I'll be able to show that I have no allegiance to the Sabbat, and that they'll be able to understand the need for secrecy. Of course, no one will trust me completely at that point, but it wouldn't be any different if I simply went up and admitted it. At least this way no-one could tell for sure."

"Whatever you think is best, boss. I'm just a driver. And a guard."

"You're good at both tasks though."

"I like to think so," the ghoul said as they pulled into Rod's reserved parking space.

The undercover car park was a fairly recent addition to the hotel. The official reason was because an uncovered one was hardly fitting for such a high class place. The real reason was because Roderick had insisted on it, and the thought of displeasing him was unthinkable to the owner of the hotel. As such, the cover was built in a relatively short span of time, the entirety of which the vampire spent inside his room. The hotel itself was fourteen stories high, and said room was on the eleventh.

The outside of the room showed windows like for every other room, but these were perpetually curtained, and had walls built behind them, so that everything looked fine from the outside, but no errant sunlight could possibly enter the room. It made the perfect haven for the vampire that liked a bit of class, but didn't want to bring any undue attention to themselves. Many of the other rooms within the hotel were populated, though the numbers were fewer in nights of late, with the almost palpable sense in the air that something terrible would soon happen. Regardless, the guests that were would be able to sustain him for a while in the event that leaving became impossible.

They left the elevator when they reached their floor, and both headed to Roderick's room, where John stayed throughout the day, making sure that his dormitor was not disturbed.

* * *

[Post 20]

Author : BurningRave

Date : Jun 5 5:23am

The night had grown to a standstill. Only the lowest of the kine remained outside. The occasional car drove by the two vampires. Surely, other Kindred walked the street, but for that short walk, it seemed as if they were the only two vampires in Santa Monica.

"Heh, I told you that everything would be, DAMNIT MOTHER FUCKER," Lothario cringed a little. "Alright. Everything would be alright. That's what I said."

Amy couldn't help but to laugh a little. The worst of the night was behind her and she had filled her veins with a large amount of vitae. All in all, she felt good. "Question."

"Statement." The Malkavian grinned and glanced over at his Toreador companion.

"Very funny."

"I know. Now, did the beautiful beast wish to ask me something, or was she simply saying a random word aloud?"

Amy tilted her head side to side. The two were approaching the front door of the apartment building. "You're Malkavian. How do you know I'm real?"

Lothario paused for a moment. "Er, ah… Well, I—SON OF A BITCH!"

"You can't know, can you? Not for sure, anyways. All of this could just be a delusion of you dementia."

After thinking about the concept for a moment, Lothario ran ahead of Amy and opened the building door for her. "I believe you exist, and since I'm Malkavian, that's pretty much all I need."

The Toreador walked into the building, and then let Lothario lead her upstairs to the apartments. The building itself was far from high class, but it would have to do. She didn't really expect much more, and it was a welcome change from the basement she normally slept in during the day.

"If it's just enough for you to believe something exists," Amy paused, somewhat reluctant to ask the following question, lest it would lead the Malkavian's dementia to reveal parts of her mind she wished unread. "Is it enough for me to believe in love to have it exist? Can I believe myself human? Would it be enough to feel my heart pound again, to cry actual tears and not just blood?"

The two Kindred had reached their destination. They made their way from the stairwell, down a short hallway, until they reached a dead end. Lothario turned to face Amy. He looked at her curiously, somewhat excited at her mention of love.

"I don't see why not. Why do you ask, black rose?"

Amy's eyes widened and she immediately turned her attention away from Lothario. The mention of black rose brought back way too many haunting memories. "No-no reason. I have to go." She began to scream in her mind, _Stay out of my head! Out of my head! Out! Out! Out!_

Lothario watched as Amy reached for the doorknob, trying to get into the apartment she stood in front of, failing to realize that he held the keys. The whispers in his mind began to say that she was desperately trying to hide something. Perhaps he pitied her a little. Lothario refused to let his dementia look into it. It took a bit of willpower, but he managed to quiet down the voices. Her secret would be safe for this night.

"You're forgetting the k-k-CUNT!" He sighed. "The key." Reaching into his pocket, he took out a keychain and pulled off one key, grabbing Amy's arm and placing it into her hand. "Don't worry, beautiful beast."

Amy found beauty in the color of Lothario's pale flesh. She stared in wonder as he placed the key in her hand, and for a moment he returned the gaze, slightly confused, until finally he turned to take his leave for the day, as to avoid the voices breaking back into his mind. Amy snapped out of her stupor and sighed, opening the door to her new home.

"This would be so much easier if he wasn't a Malkavian." She walked over to the broken bed in the middle of the room. A cockroach scurried from beneath the frame. "Erik… You wouldn't let anything happen to me, would you?"

* * *

**Author's Comment:** It was at this point that I began my lengthy endeavor of increasing my cast of characters and we're finally formally introduced to Daniel, who quickly became one of my most favored characters in the story. I think this mostly lies in the fact that he offered a PERFECT counterbalance to Amy and allowed me to distance myself, and even mock, all of her drama.

Also, I noticed here that Erik's character is a bit off from where I ended up with him, as I'm not entirely sure if he would have gone as far as to threaten Daniel later in the story. That said, I suppose it's perfectly possible to claim Erik is merely treating Daniel as a companion more so than a subordinate, and thus simply joking around at Daniel's level.

Another quick note, at first when writing for Loth's character, I used some introspective writing, offering Lothario's thoughts and feelings as if I were writing from his perspective as well. This practice died down eventually as I began to treat Lothario as an NPC.

As a semi-related note, while we wrote for other writers' characters, we decided to claim that any differentiation between how we would write for those characters and how their respective writers would write for them would be explained by our main characters' perceptions of those characters. This is to say that while I wrote for Lothario, any deviation between how I depict him and how Loth depicted him would be explained through the way in which Amy saw him.

Haha, I hope that maked sense, but if not, it's not really important.

**roddy's Comment:** Domitor. It's "domitor", roddy you nutsack, not "dormitor". How in the name of sod I managed that is beyond me. Anyway, I'm not a fan of using consecutive paragraphs to describe something, in this case Roderick's haven. It seems like bad writing, but... eh, nothing I can do now. Nothing else to say, really. I introduced Roderick's phobia here. It... really doesn't play that big a part in the story. Oh, yeah, another thing that is pretty much never brought up again (I might have at one point in time-I'm not sure): the owner of the hotel. He's Roderick's ghoul, but there's no character there. Just a piece of scenery. Not a fan of that decision, but, again, can't do much about that.

And, of course, we see the start of Rave and Loth writing for each other's characters. That was great, how they pulled that off.


	6. Our Story Begins Nights 1 And 2 Part 5

[Post 21]

Author : lothario

Date : Jun 5 1:37pm

Lothario waited the customary fifteen minutes, and then pushed the latch on the coffin lid to give himself egress from his polished aluminum cocoon that protected him from the deadly rays of the sun. Perhaps it was a bit cliche for a vampire to sleep in a coffin - but the truth of the matter was that it was extremely convenient. Comfortable and safe aren't common adjectives to use when describing Kindred activities, so perhaps it was a consolation prize for this dangerous unlife to have at least this much security while a sleeping kindred was helpless. Loth's coffin was airtight, watertight, flame-retardant, buoyant, and sealed from the inside. It was a veritable Sealy Posturepedic, as far as a kindred was concerned.

Patting the top of the coffin absentmindedly, Loth went to the window and saw the last dying rays of the sun fading over the skyline of Santa Monica. Despite his relative youth in Kindred terms, he was an "early riser", a lesson he learned quickly upon rising from his deathless sleep for the first time. He had popped the lid on Jeanette's gift that first night, excited for what his new existence was holding in store for him, and immediately he had been scorched rather wickedly by streams of golden light that filtered in through the shades here. The sun had still been up! Enough to burn the surface of his exposed skin like a strip of raw bacon tossed carelessly into a hot frying pan, anyway. Now that Loth knew better, he used the time after he awoke to feel around himself with his heightened senses, learning to judge the remaining daylight outside by the call of the birds, or the timing of traffic along Santa Monica Boulevard some few miles distant. He could still remember the grin on Jeanette's face when he told her of his trouble, and she had joked about him getting a "suntan", but Loth decided not to take her advice and carry a clock into the coffin with him. He would adapt to his problems himself, and not rely upon devices to do his thinking for him.

Sliding a window open from his second-story apartment, Lothario gave a grin at the slow-moving stream of traffic on the road some distance from his building, and hopped out of the window. The rush of gravity tickled his spine, and when he landed in a soft patch of grass, he called his Obfuscation to hide his slow creep along the sidewalk. The blood from last night's feeding was still fresh in his body, but it couldn't hurt to "top his drink off" before finding whatever trouble he could manage to get his hands on.

Testing the air with his nose, he sniffed for the trails of psychic residue that would lead him to a likely "partner", and it didn't take long for him to find the echo of a particularly drunk hooker who was hiking up her skirt to score another spoon of heroin for the evening. Her john left a seedy trail himself, and Loth gagged slightly at the odor of decay that laced the man's brain and left inky droplets of sin along the sidewalk. Touching his hand to the ground, Lothario traced the outline of where the man had left an invisible footprint on the concrete sidewalk, and realized that he might be too late. The whispers of the man's passing spoke of mayhem and chaos, and very, very bad intentions.

Breaking his Obfuscate, Loth lurched forward along the trail, tracing a footpath that led down the sidewalk for a block or two, and then turned into an alleyway between a muffler shop and a check-cashing store that blinked its neon sign with promises of quick, easy money. The young night's air was suddenly still, and Lothario took a cautious look around before calling up the Obfuscate once again. They were close.

Creeping carefully past a rusting dumpster with its lid open, Loth narrowed his eyes as he turned another blind corner and saw a dark figure holding a dirty rag over the mouth of what could only be his erstwhile streetwalker. The man was dressed in a dark hooded sweatshirt and jeans, holding her from behind, obviously using chloroform or something similar, and the hooker hadn't even had time to struggle before she was caught. This wasn't some awkward psychotic fumbling by a brand-new villain, this man knew what he was doing. The villain's only mistake this time was where he chose to do his work.

Lothario enjoyed the surge of blood that rushed into his limbs and amplified his physical prowess... the sensation has heady, and the ruthless pounding of his veins that filled with stolen blood was an exotic but short-lived high. Almost immediately, Loth was upon the man, tearing the hooker from his grasp, and the look of surprise on the villain's face was more than worth the price of admission to this little drama. The stunned man reeled from a vicious backhand that Lothario threw at his face, and as the hooker fell forward to the pavement, Lothario gave a lusty howl and latched on the man's neck, breaking the swarthy skin of the villain with his fangs. The man gave a little whimper in reply, powerless to break free from the feeding, and for a moment, Lothario thought to drain this man dry, but at the last he relented, choosing instead to bash the man's skull against the wall once for good measure, and dump his still-living body into the rusted dumpster to join the rest of the garbage.

Slapping the grime from his hands, Lothario looked back to the unconscious streetwalker lying in the alley, and with an unnecessary sigh, he went back and picked her up, slinging her over his shoulder with a grunt. He walked her back to the thoroughfare under the cover of Obfuscation, and when the coast was clear, he carefully set her on a park bench where she was in full view of a coffee shop across the street. The witnesses would watch over her enough if she gave alarm, but right now everybody sitting in the piazzo was too wrapped up in politics and lattes to notice a disheveled sleeping woman suddenly appear on a bench out of thin air. Smiling to himself, Lothario crept back to the rusted dumpster and banged his fist against the lid.

"T-time out, f-fucker. You can just stay in your penalty box. Six hours for personal foul."

Suddenly pleased with himself, Lothario left the alley, and sought out whatever the night had in store for him next. Surely his blood-flower would be up by now...

* * *

[Post 22]

Author : BurningRave

Date : Jun 5 3:07pm

"Oh let's see," Speaking to himself once again, Daniel walked through the sewer tunnels beneath the streets of Santa Monica. "I used to have about an hour to draw on her pretty face before she woke up, which means that I have a good thirty minutes to go out and grab a little drink…"

While Amy slept at the haven downtown, Daniel took great pleasure in waking up earlier than her. At first, he used his claws to tear into her face, but after being reminded that such minor wounds are easily healed on a vampire, he resorted to permanent marker. Although Erik scolded him countless times, he found it hilarious to watch the red headed Degenerate scrub her face raw to get the marks off.

"Watch out streets, here I come!" Daniel leapt onto a ladder, opened the manhole and used a small amount of blood to turn invisible. The streets were his to lurk.

Word of Amy's breakdown the night before traveled like hot gossip between Kindred, more so with the Kindred of the sewers. It didn't take much at all for Daniel to learn that she had been given a small place in some ratty apartment building down the street from the Asylum. He also got quite a bit of info on the Malkavian she had been hanging around with, knowing that he could pose a small problem to Daniel's secrecy. Still, the Nosferatu was one of the best at what he did and it would take a little more than some fledgling Malkavian to uncover his presence.

"Well would you look at that…" Daniel muttered to himself, leaning against the wall of a building. He watched a teenage boy dressed in one of the local gang colors walk into an alley. "This should be fun." The Nosferatu took off towards the alley.

"Well hello there little gangbanger." Daniel's twisted voice echoed out of nowhere just like the night before.

The teenage boy gasped and turned around, reaching towards some sort of weapon concealed in his pocket. "Who- Who's there!"

Daniel spoke again, this time from behind him. "There's no one over there, buddy." The boy once again turned around. He pulled a switchblade from his pocket and flipped it open.

"I'm w-warning you! You have no idea who you're dealing with!" The fear was so blatantly apparent in his voice that the Nosferatu couldn't help but to chuckle.

"Do you believe," Daniel let the last word linger for a moment before breaking Obfuscate while standing inches behind his target, "In. The. BOOGEYMAN!"

Immediately, the foolish boy turned around and jammed the knife into Daniel's shoulder. He then got a good chance to look at the Nosferatu's deformity, his withered, rough skin, crooked fangs, long, sharp claws. He was too frightened to scream.

"Come on, buddy." Daniel plucked the knife from his shoulder and tossed it aside. "I'm the Boogeyman. You can't hurt me. But I can hurt you. Oh yes," He laughed and lurched forward. "I can most certainly hurt you."

Finally, the young boy found it in himself to scream, but his attempt was cut short as Daniel plunged his fangs into the boy's neck, draining him to the brink of death and enjoying every minute of it. In his mind, the kid deserved it for being so foolish as to walk alone into a dark alley in the middle of the night .He was practically begging to be fed upon.

After taking his fill of blood and licking the wound closed, Daniel slung the dazed kid over his shoulder and made his way, under the invisibility of Obfuscate, towards a local residence, deciding to leave the nearly dead boy as a gift on the doorstep. He dropped the limp, but still breathing, body by the front door, rang the doorbell several times and waited under the mask of Obfuscate, wanting to see the shock on the face of whoever opened the door.

He enjoyed the scream very much.

A few minutes later, Daniel arrived at the apartment building that Amy spent the day hiding from the sun within. He made his way to her apartment, picked the poor excuse for a lock, and waltzed inside. It was a small apartment, with little actual protection from the sunlight, save the bathroom, which had no windows. That was where the Toreador had spent her day.

* * *

[Post 23]

Author : BurningRave

Date : Jun 5 3:08pm

"Wakey, wakey, Degenerate." He knelt above Amy as she slept on the floor.

The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was his ugly face and wicked smile. The first thing she smelled was permanent marker.

"Would you stop doing that!" She shoved the Nosferatu and got to her feet, immediately rushing towards the bathroom mirror to see what damage he had done to her face. The words, "UNSTABLE DEGENERATE WHORE" were plastered on her forehead, with several crude doodles of penises drawn onto her cheeks.

"Aww," Daniel mocked her. "It doesn't feel too good to have everyone be able to see just who you are from looking at you, is it?" He laughed, twisted the marker cap back on the marker and shoved it in the pocket of his torn jeans.

Amy turned on the faucet and began to try to scrub the graffiti off her face. "How am I supposed to explain this to everyone, huh?"

"Not my problem, kid. I'm kind of hoping that you tell them the entire truth so the Camarilla grants you Final Death and I can finally move on with my unlife, but I know you'll think of something." He could barely control his laughter, watching as Amy rubbed her forehead with her hand. "Oh yea, Mister High and Mighty sent me with some cash for his bitch. I'd recommend buying a new shirt, since you soaked that one with blood, but I know you'll just go out and buy blood from the hospital, you fucking banker."

Daniel threw a hundred dollar bill in the sink full of water. "Enjoy." He laughed again. "Try not to fuck up tonight, deary. I'll have my eye on you."

Amy took the hundred and threw it off to the side, still frantically trying to get the writing off her face. Daniel took in the result of his mischief then, satisfied, took what remained of the five hundred dollars Erik had given him to hand over to Amy and went to the living room. There, he opened a window, looked down to the alley for any sight of kine, and leapt out. He entered a nearby manhole.

"Ugh…" Amy sighed and looked into the mirror. She had managed to turn the words on her forehead into a large black smear. She noticed the blood that had dried on her shirt, and then looked over at the wet hundred that laid on the floor.

Knowing that she couldn't go out and meet the prince with a bloodied shirt and dirty face, Amy cursed Daniel and pulled her shirt over her head. She soaked it in the sink and used it as a washcloth to attempt to rub off the remained of the marker. After several minutes of scraping at her flesh, she finally gave up and tossed her soaked shirt into the shower. She pressed her fingernails against her forehead and dragged them across her skin, doing the same to her cheeks after she peeled off her flesh. Blood dripped from her face into the sink.

It hurt, but it was hardly a wound of much significance for a vampire. She grabbed the hundred from the floor and tried to dry it out before stuffing it into the pocket of her jeans. Small tinges of hunger had returned, but she knew that as long as she didn't use much, preferably any, more blood that night, she could manage. The hundred that Erik sent would come in handy for buying blood when she needed it most.

After waiting for the cuts on her face to heal up well enough, Amy returned to the bathroom and put on her soaked shirt, as to remain modest while asking Lothario for a spare one. She left her apartment and crossed the hallway to knock on his door.

"Hello?" She said aloud, trying to keep her voice down enough not to bother others in the building. "Lothario, are you there? I really need a new shirt. Mine's soaked… I can't see Therese looking like this."

* * *

[Post 24]

Author : lothario

Date : Jun 5 3:48pm

"Ahem."

Lothario gave Amy an awkward grin from where he stood at the bottom of the stairs, noting that her features, while still perfect, were marred by invisible lines of pain that hadn't quite faded away. For a moment, he wondered if she had been kissed by the sun as he had been a few weeks ago, but then he felt an odd tremor in the floorboards under his feet, and dropped to a crouch to feel at the worn patchwork of wood that showed a random stain here and there. Calling out to his blood-flower, Lothario stood and scratched at his chin in a leftover mortal gesture of concern.

"A black BUTTSEX, er... worm has crawled through here. He drags the filth of the earth behind him." Amy's voice was nonchalant, perhaps humoring him, as she replied.

"Whatever you say Lothario. So can I borrow a shirt, or what?" Loth gazed up at the dazzling smile on the Toreador, and again felt that strange chivalrous fire spark inside his chest. Her voice was musical, almost enchanting, and if Loth had needed to breathe, he might have found it hard to.

"Umm... COCKFAG, of course. It'll probably be a bit baggy, though... we aren't exactly the same size."

Loth mounted the stairs, fumbling for a second at the door, which he hardly used, but kept locked, and then ushered his flower inside.

"What's that?"

"Uh, that's my coffin."

"You sleep in a... coffin?" Loth noted the smile in her voice, and turned to his modest closet to pick out a suitable bit of attire for Amy, speaking over his shoulder as he did.

"I know, I know... how lame is that? But it's actually pretty comfortable in there. I always wondered why funeral homes put so much padding inside coffins before, as I'm sure it's not that they expect a vampire to use them, but over the past few weeks I've come to realize that it's the image for the mourners more than anything. They want their departed loved ones to appear sleeping, you know... resting, and not necessarily, um... dead." Finally choosing a smaller one of his shirts, Lothario turned to smile at her.

"How's this one?" Amy seemed lost in a sorrowful trance of some kind, and Loth raised an eyebrow.

"Amy?" Waving his hand in front of her face, he saw her suddenly snap out of her misery and offer him a weak smile in return.

"Oh... thanks."

"No problem... I'll give you a minute. You know what? If you aren't hungry, we should go meet my sire. You'll love her."

"Right... just give me a minute, then."

* * *

[Post 25]

Author : lothario

Date : Jun 5 7:35pm

The rifle-wielding ghoul growled to no one in particular as he dashed down a back street in the seedier part of southern Glendale.

"Dammit, this was supposed to be my night off."

Another hail of gunfire erupted from the line of hedges behind him, and Romero used another burst of blood-speed to jump over a low chain-link fence and slide down the small hill as the bullets whizzed over his head. Romero clenched his jaw as the first of the shovelheads appeared over the crest of the hill, and the M16 bucked in his hands as he peppered the Sabbat thug with a half-dozen slugs before taking a rolling leap onto his left shoulder and gaining enfilade on the remainder of the squad who lagged behind. The Sabbat he just shot gave a last agonized scream as he melted away into a pile of burning ash, but Romero paid it no mind as he was busy firing down the line of the enemy, smiling grimly as they danced and hopped from the impacts from the rest of his clip.

"FUCKING LOSERS!"

Of the four vampires who had unwisely decided to leave their cover to give him chase, only one of them managed to keep it together long enough to take a clumsy swipe at him, which Romero easily dodged, and he buried the butt of his rifle into the thug's face. The Sabbat was knocked to the ground, and in the ensuing second or two, Romero expertly changed clips with blinding speed, lowering the muzzle of the M16 to mow down the last of his enemy before the vampire could regain his feet.

The sound of quickly burning ash punctuated Romero's next husky growl.

"That's what you get for making me clock in on a vacation day, asshole."

His ears were still ringing a bit from the gunfire when his cellphone chirped, and Romero wiggled a pinky finger in his ear before answering the call.

"Yeah... this is Romero."

"What's your score, dickhead?" Great. It was Thaddeus.

"Ahh... eight for tonight so far. They got started early."

"Yeah, tell me about it. I've dusted five of these assholes, and it's only been an hour. What the hell's going on around here?"

"I don't know, Thaddeus... but something big is coming. You and I have been around for long enough to know that this is just the warm up. I guess all the bullshit downtown last week has the Sabbat's panties all twisted."

"Hmph. Well, Isaac's pissed, and he's calling in some big guns from downtown. Seems those gangsters at the Last Round still owe him a favor or two. The shit is about to hit the fan."

"Right Thaddeus, I'm going back on patrol... you watch your six."

"Gotcha hotshot, back atcha."

Romero flipped the phone closed, and stowed it away in his jacket pocket. Taking a last look around at the piles of smoldering ash, he shook his head and started the walk back to his Harley. These Sabbat idiots have no idea who they were fucking with. The police wouldn't be here for another half-hour, and by then, all they would find is empty shell-casings and cheap handguns.

* * *

**Author's Comment:** Starting to develop Daniel more here. Like I said before, he quickly grew to become one of my favorite characters. I always wrote him as being something of a Nosferatu prodigy, that is, well adept at sneaking around and getting information despite his (relatively) young age.

However, Loth was quick to counterbalance any potential power-hungry trips I may have ended up taking with Daniel, forcing me to be a touch more careful and creative with how I handled Daniel's affairs. Still, it never really got in the way of what Daniel considered important: Tormenting Amy.

It's a shame there's no roddy posts in this entry, but at this time he was running the least amount of characters.

**roddy's Comment:** I'm afraid I've little to contribute here. I'll just make a few notes on my thoughts.

One thing I'd like to point out is how Lothario (character) settled into a more "sane" style of speech (barring the tics) from the first couple of entries where, I'm not sure if it was just me, he had a slightly different tone to it. Might be imagining things, tho'.

And, of course, Daniel. Plenty of fun in that character. Not much else to say there, really.


	7. Our Story Begins Nights 1 And 2 Part 6

[Post 26]

Author : BurningRave

Date : Jun 5 8:33pm

Wearing the baggy, long sleeved shirt that Lothario offered her made Amy remember a time before her embrace, when she used to wear her sire's sweatshirt to bed. It seemed so long ago and alien, almost immediately tearing at her withered heart for she knew that those days would never return.

The two vampires walked down the street, much like the night before. "Thanks again for the shirt. I really wish I had brought some clothes with me."

"Why didn't you?" A perfectly legit question from a perfectly insane creature.

"I didn't have much of a choice. New York wasn't exactly the safest place for a sireless fledgling." She looked up at the sky.

"So, then, the beautiful beast is without a tamer?" Lothario was watching her stare into the sky.

Not wanting to divulge too much of her secrets, Amy forced a laugh. "Race you."

Lothario grinned, surprised at the sudden playfulness of the Toreador. "You're kidding."

"Not really." Amy ran off ahead, racing towards the Asylum.

The Malkavian got ready to run, but remained stuck in place as his head cocked to the side in one rapid, jerky motion. "ASS-ASSCOCK-BITCH-MOTHERFUCKER"

All of the kine wandering the streets around Lothario turned their attention towards him. Some began to whisper amongst themselves while a few of the younger kine laughed at his tic. Somewhat embarrassed, Lothario regained what composure he had and ran after Amy.

Once again, the music of the Asylum took over Amy's hearing as she entered the club. Oddly enough, the same song that had played the night before was playing when she arrived. For a brief moment, she wondered to herself if they only ever played that one song.

Lothario ran in behind Amy. "I win." She smiled at her victory.

The two made their way into the main room of the Asylum. Lothario walked over to the bar keep, who had focused his attention on Amy as they walked in. The Toreador seemed momentarily entranced by the lights that flashed on the dance floor.

"She's not going to go all batshit again, is she? It's not good for business." The bar keep laughed to himself. "Then again, this is the Asylum. Ah, hell if I know."

"Are the sisters upstairs, my good man?"

"Yea, but from the sounds of things, you might want to stay down here awhile.

Lothario frowned. "Don't tell me they're fighting again."

"Either that, or Jeanette brought in one hell of a lover tonight." The barkeep glanced over at a couple who were approaching the bar. "Is that it?"

"Yes, sir." Lothario nodded and went back to grab Amy. "Come, my sire awaits."

Amy followed the Malkavian into the elevator, marveling at walls of the small, enclosed space. Soon enough, a bell dinged and the door opened into a small hallway. The voices of two women yelling at each other managed to break through the walls.

"Come on!" One of the voices said, pleading. "I've been stuck up here alone for so long and now you won't even let me go downstairs and enjoy the night? Why do you hate me so much?"

The second voice, Therese, responded, "Hush Jeanette. There's more important matters that need to be dealt with than your forsaken libido."

Lothario leaned against a wall, next to the door to Therese and Jeanette's room. "Déjà vu."

"What?" Amy replied, starring at herself in a mirror that hung in the hallway. The wounds in her face had healed up nicely.

"Oh, pardon me." He looked down, slightly embarrassed.

"You're such a jerk! Why do you have to be so mean to me?" Jeanette sounded as if she would soon burst into tears.

Someone banged on a desk. "Alright, fine Jeanette! Go have your fun. I'll take care of all of this myself."

Jeanette responded with a stream of giddy laughter. "I knew you loved me, sister! I'll be back later." The doorknob to their room jiggled as she began to leave. "Don't wait up for me!"

"Darling," Lothario said almost immediately as his sire walked into the hallway.

"Why hello there! I hadn't expected to have my cute puppy waiting at my doorstep for me to come out and play. Oh! And just who is that adorable little duckling standing behind you?" A delighted grin spread across Jeanette's lips.

"Amy," The Toreador knew she wanted to say more, but found herself completely lost in the color of the lipstick smeared on Jeanette's lips.

Lothario added in, "Therese said that she would have work—PUSSYLICKER!"

Jeanette giggled. "Only if she really wants to. Poor thing seems frightened of me. My bites don't hurt." She licked her lips and continued to giggle.

For a moment, it seemed as if Lothario was lost in thought. Amy managed to pull her attention away from Jeanette's face. "I'm not afraid, just interested in your make up."

Jeanette leaned forward, squinting her eyes in an adorable fashion, before wrapping an arm around Lothario and pulling him close to her. "Aw! She's a cute little Toreador! I can practically feel emotional pain surging from your cursed soul! It's so romantic, don't you think so, sweetie?"

Lothario blinked absently a couple of times before he managed to speak. "Well… um, yes—SHIT MONKEY BALLS! COCKSUCKING WHORE!"

"Ohh," Jeanette squealed, "That was a bad one. Poor thing. Maybe your sweet sire will make things all better before sunrise."

Again, Lothario seemed at a loss for words, or just lost in demented thoughts.

"I, um, hate to interrupt," Amy spoke out. "The prince offered me some work and—"

Jeanette squeezed her childe tight. "Why didn't you say so earlier, sweetie! I know exactly what you can do."

"Shouldn't I speak to your sister?"

Lothario answered Amy's question. "My sire may not be prince, technically, but she's just as qualified."

"Such a sweet little devil, you are! My childe is right. I'm just as good as my sister. Even better if you enjoy sinning!" She pressed her lips against Lothario's cheek and scraped his flesh with her fangs just enough to leave a light mark.

After letting him go from her grasp, Jeanette smiled. "From what I hear, some of those nasty little Sabbat have decided to cause a bit of trouble in LA. I think that my sister would really enjoy keeping good relations with the Anarchs. "She paused and licked her lips. "I know I would…"

"Anarchs?" Amy wasn't overly familiar with the term.

Lothario replied, "A sect of vampires who don't particularly like the Camarilla."

Jeanette giggled. "Oh yes! Those lovely rebels absolutely hate us, when all we want to do is love them. Still, after that last prince blew to bits, tension seemed to have died down at least a little. Personally, I would love to keep those little morsels with us instead of against us. Could you two be darlings and go see how the Anarchs are holding up Downtown? The important ones hang out in the Last Round."

"Of course, dear." Lothario said with a smile on his face.

Amy simply nodded, looking into Jeanette's eyes and feeling as if she'd seen them before.

Before Amy and Lothario left, Jeanette called after them. "Look out for a handsome young Ventrue my sister met yesterday. She sent word for him to check on the Anarchs as well. And do be careful. It would break my heart to see either one of you lovely ducklings hurt."

* * *

[Post 27]

Author : lothario

Date : Jun 5 9:44pm

After leaving Asylum, Lothario smiled over to Amy, who seemed to be in a much better mood tonight.

"Do you know how to shoot?"

"What? You mean like a gun?"

"Yes. My sire understands my madness, and didn't have to say it, but we will face danger tonight. She was dripping with promises of violence when she spoke to us." Lothario paused for a moment, letting the idea sink in to his flower's mind.

"This is our test, Amy... the first of many. As childer, we are expected to do the dirty work of our elders, and take the risks that they shouldn't have to. It's a way of showing COCKNOSE, err... showing respect to them." Amy smiled grimly, and gave him a nod.

"Makes sense, I guess. And to answer your question, no. Not really." Loth nodded back to her.

"It's okay. Shooting guns is a lot easier than you think. Point and click. I like to use them as a distraction more than anything else, but in the right hands they are deadly... even to kindred. Come on, let's go talk to my friend Trip. He owns the store under our apartments."

The pair walked silently for a while, tasting the salty cool breeze of the California autumn, and before long, they were walking through the barred glass door that led to the interior of a rundown-looking pawn shop. The proprietor Trip was painfully stereotypical for a California "dude", a fact that never ceased to tickle Lothario's funny bone.

"Hey Loth... what's shakin'? You catch that slasher flick I told ya about last time?"

"Yeah, Trip... what's up with that ending? Can you really kill somebody with a cellphone?" Trip gave a half-lidded grin, the gleam of his dope-reddened eyes shining in the dim florescent bulbs overhead.

"Dunno... I thought it was kinda funny, though..."

"Oh hey, Trip... FUCKSTICK... erm... this my friend Amy. She's really cool." Amy gave the stoner a slight smile as he replied.

"Hey.. nice to meet you, Amy. So, umm... what's up, guys? Dude... are you on a... oh, wait..." Lothario interjected quickly.

"It's okay, Trip. I told you she's cool. And yeah, we're on another secret mission, bro. Amy's kinda like my partner." Trip's eyes grew wide, and he stammered slightly before replying.

"Wicked, dude... like Scarecrow and Mrs. King! Awesome!"

"So what do you say, Trip? Can you hook up my lady with a piece?" Trip's excited voice dropped to conspiratorial whisper.

"Hell yeah, man... check this shit out."

Talking a quick look around, Trip reached under his counter and pulled out a large metal toolbox that looked like it had been dropped from a moving vehicle a few times, and lifted the lid to reveal a pair of cold, black steel 9mm pistols. Giving Trip a nod, Loth lifted one of the weapons from the padded interior of the toolbox and handed the gun to Amy, who seemed to handle the weapon with a look of uncertainty. Her voice was small as she spoke in a low voice to Lothario.

"I don't know about this." Giving her a wink, Lothario spoke up to Trip.

"Do you have anything bigger?"

"Not right now, man... things are kinda tight with my guy right now on account of the terrorist attacks and all... the cops' buttholes are clenching hard enough to make diamonds out of charcoal briquettes." Trip gave a little snicker, rubbing at the back of his neck, and continued. "But seeing as how you're a bro and all, I'll let these go for two-fifty each. Now don't go telling anybody that, alright? Those are friend prices." Loth nodded, giving Amy another wink.

"Cool, man. We'll take both." Pulling out a wad of cash from his pocket, Lothario counted out seven Benjamins and slid them across the countertop to Trip.

"Dude."

"We need a bunch of ammo, too. All that you got."

"Whoa... try not to kick Godzilla's ass tonight, okay?"

"No promises, Trip. Shit's gettin' serious."

* * *

[Post 28]

Author : roddyrod

Date : Jun 5 10:38pm

_Did I even give her my e-mail address?_ Roderick wondered as his most loyal ghoul weaved expertly through the alleys that made up a section of Downtown LA. _Anarchs. Misguided fools, to the last of them._ Their conviction was something that he admired, though, ever since he met them back when LA was still without Camarilla presence, before his sire died. _Another bar… I just hope that this one is a little less loud. Is there some rule against playing music that doesn't sound like a dying animal?_ His thoughts trailed away as they approached the bar known as "the Last Round", _No doubt owing to your wanting to kill yourself after you were done. _

"You notice any covered parking lots on our way over here, boss?" John asked.

Rod was snapped out of his trance, and noticed that they were standing on the edge of a fairly narrow road. "I'll call you when I'm done. Or maybe I'll take a cab if I'm in a hurry." He picked up his suitcase. Inside he kept various tools of various uses. A lockpick which was useful if the lock in question was made by a dunce; a small mallet, which came in handy once, so he kept it with him; several other knickknacks; and his personal favorite, a sawed-off shotgun loaded with incendiary rounds (and a fair few of said rounds), perfect for toasting vampires. He spent a while acquiring it about a year back.

"Sure. Have fun with the Sabbat, eh? Give them one for me."

Rod opened the door, "Oh, I will." He got out and closed the door. Sure enough, right there a short distance away was a small building with a weathered sign that more-or-less said "The Last Round". It was a fairly secluded location. There was an overpass above it, and a few bums made their homes under that. The blood of the homeless was one of the things that he could not stomach well. He assumed that it came from his loathing of them in life; now he just sees them as the waste of mankind, but even so they were more human than he was. The knowledge of that made him slightly uneasy, so with an effort he looked away and headed through the front door of the bar.

He knew that wishing for something doesn't make it true, but he couldn't help but be slightly disappointed when the first sounds of the cacophony within assailed his ears. _Fits though._ He knew that showing them that the Camarilla was not all bad was important to the Prince, but he thought it was little more than a wasted gesture. A job is a job though, and I've got a long way to go, he conceded after a moment's deliberation. He walked through the bar, looking for one "Damsel", as Therese called her; a red-haired Brujah. She assured him that he'd know her when he saw her. He went up the stairs at the back of the little building after noting there were no Kindred on the bottom floor.

"So, Cammy. You're here to help us out? You better not try something, or I swear you're going to be wearing your ass in a sling," was the first thing he heard as soon as he reached the top.

"You're Damsel?"

"Yup. Listen Cammy, since I don't have all day. Nines and his crew are already out dusting those Sabbat assholes. I'm here because he told me to, and I'm none too happy about it."

"Look. You don't like me, and what I think of you is irrelevant. Just tell me what you need me to do, and I'll go." Roderick didn't want to anger her further, and he felt that his continued presence wasn't helping matters.

"You have any experience wasting those bastards?"

"I've made a habit of avoiding them whenever possible."

"So you're just another Cammy lapdog, huh? Pathetic."

_Everyone has to do what they must_. He didn't say anything.

"You know, I don't care all too much what happens to you. It's your unlife, and if you're gonna waste it working for–"

"Just tell me what you want me to do."

"I want to you just crawl back to whatever hole you crawled out of. Nines, on the other hand, thinks that you might be necessary. Fine. If you die it's one less Cammy in the universe. If you don't… well maybe you aren't all bad. Just you mind you, not that so-called "Prince" you serve, or–"

"Someone's coming."

"What, you have some sixth sense now?"

"I heard the door."

"Huh. That's good. I won't have to repeat myself then. I am expecting a few more of you types to pop in."

Roderick took a few steps back, thought about leaning on the wall, but figured that the walls would be filthy, and he didn't want to soil them. Not prematurely, anyway. _Seems I won't be doing this alone._

* * *

[Post 29]

Author : BurningRave

Date : Jun 5 11:48pm

The cab ride to downtown took less time than Amy expected. Her pockets were filled with handgun bullets and a solitary hundred-dollar bill. Despite his insanity, Lothario seemed relatively relaxed in the face on the oncoming danger. She, however, spent most of the trip running her fingertips along the cold metal of the handgun her Malkavian friend had bought her. While she had absolutely no combat experience, she didn't think that pulling a trigger and aiming could be too difficult. Still, she couldn't help but feel anxious about facing Lothario's prediction of danger.

Her sire had taught her the basic skills of her clan; Auspex, Celerity, Presence, but she learned little else during her stay in New York. Aside from her basic understanding of those Disciplines, she found ease in relating to others, often appealing to their emotions that she so longed to feel again. In every other aspect of a vampire's skills, she was nothing but a novice.

Downtown was a bit more busy than Santa Monica, and Amy noticed a larger abundance of homeless people huddling around fires in alleyways. A few gang members lounged around, no doubt protecting their turf, caught up in the petty affairs of mortals while much larger scale dangers lurked in the shadows behind them.

As the two got out of the cab, right in front of the Last Round, Lothario yelled out another one of his obscenities. The cab driver called him a freak before driving off, though the insult didn't seem to bother the Malkavian much at all.

While entering the bar and being engulfed in music, just as loud as that which played at the Asylum, Amy wondered where Daniel was lurking. She knew he was too good to have been left behind in Santa Monica. In the end, she knew it would be impossible to figure out where that sneaky Sewer Rat was hiding and decided to focus on the task at hand. Lothario led the way upstairs where the two vampires were greeted with a familiar face.

Amy first noticed the red haired Brujah, glaring at her as she stepped off the stairs. "OH! Fan-Fucking-tastic! The great Camarilla decides to help by sending a God damn Malkavian and easy-to-frenzy Toreador. Wonderful. Ugh! I hate those Cammy scumbags."

"WHORE!" Lothario's head ticked to the side.

Dasmel's eyes flared. "Say that again, Lunatic. I dare you to say that again."

"COCKSUCKING BITCH ASS MOTHER FUCKER!"

"Oh, that's it! I'm going to break every fucking bone in your body." If Damsel were still human, Amy would have bet that her entire face would have been bright red with anger.

"It's part of his Dementia!" Amy called out before Damsel could swing a punch.

The red haired Brujah scoffed. "Protecting your Cammy friend? If I hit him, will you Frenzy? Ah! Damnit!"

At this point, the Ventrue that Amy had bumped into the previous night stepped forward from his silence. "Anarch, I'm not too thrilled with dealing with you, or them, but we should really just focus on getting the job done so we can all go back to our night."

"My apologies, red haired maiden." Lothario paused, as if listening to some otherworldly voice speak to him.

"Alright, whatever. Listen. If you Cammies want to help so bad, we need someone to check out the Hallowbrooke Hotel. The Sabbat used to use it as a base until a few weeks ago. Since they have resurfaced, it won't hurt to clear out any that decide to try to restore their old den."

"Should we expect a lot of confrontation?" the Ventrue asked, completely serious and focused.

Damsel rolled her eyes. "No, expect a giant welcoming party. Dumbass."

"Whatever." Roderick walked passed Amy and Lothario, making his way downstairs.

"Um… Thanks." Amy forced it out, even if she didn't think Damsel deserved the etiquette.

"Whatever Cammy. Maybe I'll be more welcoming if you don't decide to somehow screw us over. Though, I really doubt it."

Without saying another word, Amy ran downstairs after Roderick, eager to catch up to the vampire she would soon be working with. Lothario lingered behind for a moment.

"Yes? What the hell are you looking at?"

Lothario grinned. "You posed for a risqué poster, didn't you?"

"Fucking Malkavian! Get out of here!"

With that final confrontation, Lothario ran to join with the Toreador and Roderick.

* * *

[Post 30]

Author : lothario

Date : Jun 5 11:56pm

"Report, Roger." The agent on Gorgana's videocom flashed a toothy smile.

"It's as you predicted, Mistress... the Anarchs from downtown have been called away to deal with our raids around Hollywood."

"Excellent, Roger. Keep the pressure up, just as we discussed. The shipment is on the way right now, and I will not tolerate any failures like the one at our warehouse in Santa Monica. I want those damned fools chasing red herrings all night! When the shipment is secured, you may contact me with the particulars. Do not fail me, Roger... this is important."

"I... fully understand, Mistress. There will be no more mistakes."

"Very good, Roger. Carry on."

Gorgana switched off the screen with an impatient click, and then smiled as she stroked the fine fur on the back of her little Pixiedust. The tiny terror gave a rumbling and satisfied sigh that was more appropriate for a bull mastiff, and not a pint-sized little rat-dog. This feint would work... and when her shipment hit the streets, the kine and kindred alike wouldn't know what hit them.

Gorgana allowed herself a slow and sinister smile. The ghouls of the Tzimisce tend to have that effect on people.

* * *

**Author's Comment:** Now we approach the first true action bit in this story. When we began, I believe we all wanted to have some sort of decent balance between action and non-action, which is something that did manage to carry along rather well later into the story, despite the amount of combat we began to introduce.

In response to roddy's last comment, when I first began writing for Lotharo, I was fresh off the Malkavian presented in Bloodlines, so I gave him that odd, insightful dialogue. Of course, this tapered out rather quickly, and aside from his obvious quirks, Lothario became relatively normal.

**roddy's Comment:** This was a nice set of entries. Indeed, these first few nights were really rather concise. Good stuff. Now, I introduced Roderick's next flaw here in his inability to feed from the homeless. I think that came out rather well, actually. Didn't like them in life and now, despite being human filth, they were more human than him. I preferred to avoid writing established characters in general, though I thought I did a decent enough job with Damsel.

Also introduced were Roderick's enhanced hearing, causing him no end of annoyance in the nightclubs, and a most-recurring element in his toolbox of a suitcase. And the shotgun. Yeah, it's a silly weapon, especially for a fire-fearing vampire to use, but a bit of utilization of the Rule of Cool here and there served its purpose. Though it does fall to the wayside later...

One thing worth noting is Roderick's attitude toward Anarchs in this entry. Why exactly becomes clear over the course of the story.


	8. Our Story Begins Nights 1 And 2 Part 7

[Post 31]

Author : lothario

Date : Jun 6 12:29am

The unlikely trio of kindred descended upon the broken-down hotel, or more appropriately, what was left of it. Great tears in the walls from explosions and damage from old fires had obviously gutted the lower levels of the place some few weeks ago, and as Lothario tested the trails of psychic residue with his nose, he sensed a great battle had taken place inside the Hallowbrook, and unlike the Last Round, which was streaked throughout by many old and musty trails of resonant power, this place held only two particularly noteworthy traces. One of them was dark and twisted, speaking of very old pain and joy, while the other was full of dark light, dazzled by possibility and hummings of ancient meetings.

These threads had wound together, and then apart, and then when they met again, he felt the twisted strand break, leaving only the vibrant youth of the new thread to leave this place in shambles.

Amy's voice broke Lothario from his reverie.

"This place gives me the creeps." Loth nodded to her, noting that the Ventrue merely shrugged, and climbed over a pile of debris to gain entrance into a large blast-hole in the side of the building. His voice was even, but held a noticeable note of disdain as he spoke to Amy and Loth who remained behind.

"Are you coming?" The figure of the Ventrue merged with the shadows, seemingly swallowed by the dark mass, and Lothario twitched his mouth slightly.

"Don't worry, Amy... Just remember what I showed you with the gun. Is the safety on?" The pretty girl looked down at the pistol in her hand.

"Yes."

"Okay... maybe it's all right to take it off safety now. Just try not to shoot Roderick... he seems like the grumpy sort." Amy gave him an uplifting smile, and nodded quietly.

The pair of them picked their way over the charred debris, their path among the twisted metal and broken wooden beams making scratching sounds in the burned and broken concrete. For a moment, Loth worried about the noise they were making, but everything here spoke of long-past struggle, and perhaps he was just letting the forlorn spookiness of the place get to him.

When the two of them entered the deeply shadowed interior of the hotel, they called up the Auspex into their eyes, and the dark shadows of the place disappeared under the onslaught of their supernatural vision.

Roderick was waiting impatiently in the middle of the trashed office with his arms crossed over his chest, and seemed completely unfazed by the possible threat of conflict.

"Come on you two, there's three levels of basements here. Nothing could be upstairs, this place is barely able to stay up as it is." Loth puffed out his chest slightly.

"Right, Rod... umm, lead the way. We've got your back." Rod's aura showed a flash of derision as he replied.

"Yeah... I bet you do. If one of you shoots me there, I'll take it out of your hide." Loth glanced over to Amy, who gulped in a very mortal fashion, and then he shrugged his shoulders at her.

* * *

[Post 32]

Author : roddyrod

Date : Jun 6 1:36am

Roderick wondered if he was maybe being a bit harsh towards his two "coworkers". He decided it was for the best. People tended to work better for him when they were slightly afraid. Besides, he didn't trust them enough otherwise. Especially the Toreador. There was something not right about her, though he figured that it was possibly due to his general lack of exposure to the Degenerates as a whole. He was slightly worried about their choice of armament though. Pistols were hardly the most effective of tools for engaging a vampire; even one as pathetic as your average Sabbat shovelhead. No matter what he thought of them, he didn't want to see his fellows dead.

They proceeded down a hallway; most of the doorways were blocked by debris of some kind. Lothario and Amy (as the Malkavian referred to her as) were talking to one another, but he paid little attention to them. At one point as they proceeded through the dilapidated remains of what was once certainly a fine piece of property, he thought he heard a sort of scurrying, unlike a rat. He was born with acute hearing, and this particular trait stayed with him into undeath; and while it had its uses, it particularly vexed him in places where the music was particularly loud.

"Quiet you two," he whispered, just loudly enough to be heard. "I think I hear something."

He heard it again, this time coming from a room to his left. He unclipped his suitcase, pulled out the shotgun, grabbed a handful of rounds, and stuck them in his pockets wherever they fit. He closed it again, and held it in his left hand, with the gun in his right. He edged slowly into the room, and sure enough, there was someone there. It was a shaggy looking creature, and Rod wasn't sure if it was alive or dead. Whatever it was, as soon as it noticed that someone had entered its domain, it began to charge.

Roderick looked it in the eyes, and saw a manic stare looking back, completely focused on its quarry.

"Stop," he said clearly. The pathetic wretch immediately obeyed, and simply stood there, staring at his enemy. Rod approached it, and noted that it was indeed a vampire, though not for long.

Amy and Lothario entered the room just in time to see Rod aim his shotgun at the unmoving Sabbat's head and pull the trigger. The creature erupted into a spectacular array of flames, from which all three vampires retreated immediately. Like every other vampire, Roderick was terrified of fire, but he made every effort to control himself, to appear calm and collected.

"That was brilliant," the Malkavian commented. "Was it Dominated?"

"Was it trying to kill me?" He reloaded one of the shells into the shotgun. "These things might be horrifically violent, but they have all of the willpower of a goldfish," he added.

"What was that? The gun?" asked Amy, slightly afraid.

"It's just a shotgun. It's loaded with incendiary rounds. Incredibly useful for torching vampires that get out of line." He emphasized that last part in a slightly menacing tone. "It raises a few issues, particularly the Red Fear. I hope you know how to control yourselves. Hate to have to put you down because you got a bit carried away."

They might have responded to that, but he made no effort to pay attention. They had a hotel to clear, and for all he knew, there were many more shovelheads to meet the Final Death. Perhaps even something more sinister, though he hoped not. While he could protect himself if necessary, the existence of his companions made keeping his true nature a secret something of a problem if push came to shove.

* * *

[Post 33]

Author : BurningRave

Date : Jun 6 2:50am

"How many Sabbat do you think are in here?" Amy found herself staring at the molten ash that once formed the flesh of a vampire.

"A few," Lothario whispered, "I can feel—SKULL FUCKING SHIT!"

"Damnit Malkavian!" Roderick immediately went on alert, readying his shotgun.

"Sorry, I—SKANKY BITCH—Can't stop…" Lothario cringed, trying to gain control over his tics.

From what Amy could see, Roderick stood motionless, as if listening for movement. Breaking his stance, he muttered the phrase, "We need to move. Now." Immediately he began to leap over debris and run down a dark corridor.

Lothario opened an eye, glanced at Amy, and then followed after the Ventrue. Following Lothario, she couldn't help but to feel vulnerable. She was significantly weaker than her two companions. From the looks of things, Lothario had a decent understanding of guns, as well as a powerful control over Auspex and his Dementia. Roderick, obviously, proved that he could handle himself. She began to wonder just how much he had been through.

"You led us to a dead end?" Lothario questioned. They had run to the back of a medium sized room, with one doorway on their left and one directly behind them.

"I wasn't trying to escape, Lunatic. It's kind of pointless to run after you managed to alert every undead creature lurking on this floor." Roderick set his briefcase down and began to prepare himself for the upcoming battle.

Frantic, Amy called out, "Can't we—can't we talk to them… or something? I don't know if I can deal with this."

"Alright. You try talking to them, and after you meet your Final Death, I'll speak the only language these shovelheads understand." He cocked his shotgun.

Lothario walked over to Amy. "Don't worry. I have a feeling our friend here can bring about death to a large horde of these underlings. Whatever gets by him, I'll send to hell before allowing it to make your acquaintance."

Amy sighed. Her desire to be mortal left her amazingly vulnerable in these situations, as she was so reluctant to embrace the powers of her curse. She feared using blood, because it would mean the return of the hunger and she would have to feed again. For all intents and purposes, she was little more than a human who could withstand a few more lethal blows than usual.

"The soon to be re-deceased are approaching." Lothario twirled his handgun around his finger, probably thinking it made him look cool.

Roderick took center floor, leaving the Malkavian and the Toreador a few paces behind him. "I don't care where the hell you aim those guns of yours, but Caine help you if you shoot me."

Several bestial calls echoed through the dark hallways of the basement, soon followed by the rapid pitter-patter of footsteps. A few seconds later, the vague, shadowy outlines of the Sabbat stood in the doorways.

For a second, it seemed as if the two sects stared each other down. The Sabbat lingered in the doorways, Roderick leveled his shotgun for a headshot and Lothario's attention shifted back and forth between the doorways. Amy wished the peace before the battle could last a little longer. She wasn't ready for this.

The Sabbat lunged into the room. Several of the leading shovelheads met their Final Death as they foolishly attempted to attack Roderick in a frenzied rush. The Ventrue forced one of the Sabbat to stand still in the corner of the room and bashed another with the butt of his shotgun before emptying his gun on the dominated shovelhead and stepping back to reload. A claw swung through the air and gashed his face, leaving small droplets of blood on the floor.

That Sabbat met a fiery death not two seconds afterwards.

Amy found herself lost in the chaos of the battle. Roderick managed to keep most of the weak Sabbat pack at bay, taking only the occasion hit. Lothario had vanished, but Amy hardly noticed. The color emitted from Roderick's shotgun struck her as perfectly beautiful, a brief explosion of ecstasy in the middle of bleak darkness.

A Sabbat growled, turning his attention away from Roderick and towards the awestruck Toreador. He launched himself across the floor, raising a claw in the air, intending to gash open Amy's chest.

"BLOW ME SHITFACE" Lothario broke his Obfuscate, tackling and pinning the Sabbat against a nearby wall before emptying half a clip into its skull and reducing it to ash.

The profanity served to break Amy from her trance. A few moments later and silence returned to the room. Several Sabbat had met their Final Death in that room in a poor, frenzied attempt to take out Roderick, Lothario and Amy.

The Ventrue walked towards where he set his briefcase. Three gashes ran diagonally across his face and his right sleeve had been torn to shreds. "At least you didn't put a bullet in the back of my head, though would making yourself remotely useful have been too terribly difficult?" He knelt down, never looking at Amy as he spoke. "Hell, even frenzying would have been better than just standing in the corner doing absolutely nothing. Why the hell are you even here?"

Lothario had taken an odd obsession with scattering the ash of the Sabbat he killed, kicking the remains with his feet and laughing.

Roderick's words hurt Amy. She knew that she wasn't meant for this. "Don't ask me. I'm just following orders. And you don't have to be so… so cruel."

"Spare me the emotional bullshit, Degenerate. Learn to do something worthwhile or get the hell away from me." He picked up his briefcase, slung his shotgun over his shoulder and began to walk to the door on the left side of the room.

Lothario froze and began to speak slowly. "Two levels below us. They, the voices, the haunting voices tell me, lurking in the shadows, a young Tzimisce trying to get order amongst this scattered and chaotic pack of Sabbat. Youthful is his nature, but he should still be feared."

"A Tzimisce…? Should we… get help?" Amy forced the words to come up. Roderick hurt her. She felt useless, lost between a realm of kine and kindred.

Roderick resumed walking. "I was sent here to do a job."

Lothario broke from his state of dementia and looked at Amy. "Don't worry, my pained beauty." He smiled and turned to follow Roderick towards the stairs leading down.

Amy ran her fingers against her gun again, lifting it up to eye level. "I can't do this… Why did Erik think I could? Daniel would have been a better choice…" She felt blood run from the corner of her eye.

She wiped her blood tears onto the palm of her hand and licked it off before following the other two vampires.

* * *

[Post 34]

Author : lothario

Date : Jun 6 3:41am

The next level found the trio in a still-damaged part of the Hollowbrook. Here, there weren't as many piles of broken furniture cast haphazardly about, but what piles they saw were intelligently arranged as barriers. Lothario didn't miss the steely look of determination on Rod's face as he scanned about the open doorways, and hazarding a glance back to Amy, he saw that she was caught in the grips of emotional distress. Her Aura shivered with fear, and Lothario's heart sank as he reached out a cautious hand to her, touching her gently on the shoulder. She gave no kind of response, and Lothario let his words tumble from his mouth.

"Amy... you'll be fine - if you're able to let go, or else you will fail the test. Do you really want to meet your final death here, in this godforsaken place? Isn't there something... or someone... worth living for?"

His flower blinked once, and slowly turned to look at him with a strange expression on her face.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me, blood flower... your time is upon you to either sink or swim, and I so desperately want you to swim." Lothario dropped his voice to an urgent whisper as he motioned his head towards the Ventrue, who was poking about a few of the empty rooms nearby.

"Even Roderick doesn't want you to die... but he's not going to admit it out loud. You have to shake free of your fear, or this horrible place will claim you. The Fiend down below will not allow us any error."

Suddenly, Rod gave a curse from a room just down the hall, and the shotgun blast tore through their conversation like a tornado through a trailer park. Baring his fangs at Amy, Lothario growled.

"Come on! Raise that gun like I showed you, and... SHITBAG! STUPID SHITBAG! Shoot the shit out of anything that moves! I've seen how fast you are... you can do this!" Lothario pulled the large knife from the sheath at his side and called the curtain of Obfuscation over himself. If any one of these shovelheads got close to her, they would regret it.

* * *

[Post 35]

Author : roddyrod

Date : Jun 6 5:27am

_How can there be this many?_ Roderick wondered absently, as he grappled with one of the vampires. He had no opportunity to reload the shogun, so he dropped it in a corner of the room, and proceeded to attempt to beat his assailants into the Final Death. While he possessed a remarkable ability to avoid being hit, his own physical capabilities were somewhat lacking. He expended some measure of blood in an attempt to bolster his physical strength. Eventually he succeeded in wrestling the malcontent to the ground, from where he used the full force of his augmented body to crush its head with his foot. It didn't move. Even if it wasn't dead, it was no doubt incapacitated, and of no harm.

There were several others in the larger room where Lothario and Amy were. He couldn't see the Malkavian (though he knew he was hiding somewhere), but, and to his surprise, he saw the Toreador emptying a clip into the body of one of the shovelheads, felling the beast, though she was still frantically pulling the trigger with no effect. Taking advantage of the moment of relative peace, Rod picked up his shotgun, and proceeded to reload it once again. _Not that much ammo left for this thing… this could turn nasty. _He walked back into the main room, and looked around for his suitcase which he dropped at some point in the melee. He spotted it a moment later, a bit dented but still there, and retrieved some more rounds from it.

"You two alive?" he asked rhetorically.

"Mostly," replied Lothario, casting off the cloak of shadows. "You alright Amy?"

The Toreador didn't respond. She simply stared at the gun in her hand.

Rod looked in her direction. "Somewhat refreshing to see that you're not just dead weight after all."

She looked up at him, and to Roderick, it appeared as though she was relieved, or perhaps proud, though he couldn't be sure under the dirt and scratches. "Th-thanks…" she finally stuttered.

"Don't think that means I like you. You're just not entirely useless." _Perhaps she'll be more useful if she thinks that she can prove herself. Either way, it's an improvement._

Lothario said something to her. Their conversation was mostly irrelevant to him, and now that there was no doubt that whatever was left in the building was aware of their presence, even the Malkavian's outbursts were of little consequence (though he rarely paid them any heed anyway). He walked down another hall at the end of the room cautiously. Just because the Sabbat knew they were somewhere there didn't mean they had to know exactly where.

He continued down the hall, scanning each room in turn, and finding all except one empty. That particular room housed one shovelhead that seemed to be cowering in the corner. Having expended too much blood in the previous fight, he saw this as an opportunity.

"Come here," he ordered.

It didn't respond.

"What are you–", Lothario attempted to ask, but didn't finish.

"Feeding," Roderick answered immediately. He walked over to the vampire, roughly picked it up, and looked it in the eyes. "Stand," he commanded, and the wretch obeyed. Rod moved him into a more convenient position, bared his fangs and plunged them into the neck. The other tried to struggle for a moment, but was soon subdued by the more powerful vampire. After a short while, he dropped the Sabbat onto the ground, still alive. He turned back to his fellows, and was met with little more than a look of shock. He ignored it. "If you want a little top-up, feel free."

Amy finally managed to say something. "Isn't that illegal?"

"Turns out you know something after all. If you kill them and keep sucking, yes, it is. Otherwise, it's just potent blood. So you better be careful."

* * *

**Author's Comment:** This whole section basically promotes each character's combat capabilities, and of course Amy ends up falling hideously short.

Also, this was before I think both myself and lothario had a true understanding of Roderick, and wrote him a touch more aggressive than he should have been. Other than that, everything turned out quite well.

**roddy's Comment:** I don't think you made him too aggressive, really. It's part of appearances; it stands to reason that, from the perspectives of the two younger vampires, he would appear to be more "frightening" than he perhaps is, considering his greater level of experience. They didn't know him too well at that point, after all.

These were also some good entries. The only issue that comes to mind is just how pathetic the shovelheads must have been, considering that scores of them were so easily dispatched. Other than that, I don't really have anything new to say.


	9. Our Story Begins Nights 1 And 2 Part 8

[Post 36]

Author : lothario

Date : Jun 6 11:47am

In the deepest bowels of the Hollowbrook, Tomas Dimitros, proud member of clan Tzimisce, tapped absently at a desk. He was sitting cross-legged, his arms draped over the sides of a plush high-backed chair that was terribly Louis XV, and when the commotion upstairs had continued, he finally tired of the game and motioned to the Szlacta slavering at his side.

"Go see to the ruckus, my pet. Your cousins will be here soon, and it would not do to have the riff-raff interfering with my plans. Lady Gorgana is a particularly unforgiving one."

The nightmarish machine focused its lone eyeball set into the middle of its bulk on Tomas, nodding eagerly, and when it opened its cavernous mouth in a smile, Tomas held up a hand and reached over to adjust some of the guardian's teeth.

"That's better. DO PLEASE send our intruders my regards... and take your brother with you, he has been quite whiny this past week without any fresh meat to tear apart."

The ghoul nodded eagerly, taking off in a lurch, and Tomas studied the misshapen mass of flesh with a coldly clinical eye, dissecting the movement of each step as the ghoul ran up the stairs to find his brother, a more dimwitted, but still-useful little experiment. He smiled at this thought - no, perhaps "little" isn't the word to describe the other ghoul, but such semantics are better left to the other clans. The true purpose of life was in form and function, not in how one described it. Tomas pulled his laboratory journal from his pocket and scribbled some notes, speaking out loud to himself.

"Must remember to set the spinal column back a bit to allow for more freedom of movement..."

* * *

[Post 37]

Author : BurningRave

Date : Jun 6 12:05pm

Amy stared at the dazed Sabbat held by Roderick. Lothario took a step forward, somewhat tempted by the Ventrue's offer of blood, but then shook his head and smiled.

"Enough vitae runs through my veins to get me through the night."

Roderick's gaze turned to Amy, waiting with forced patience for her response. "No-no… thanks." Just imagining wrapping her lips around that creature's neck and sucking the cursed blood from his veins was enough to make Amy feel sick. She had enough trouble feeding on kine. Luckily, she hadn't used too much blood that night and only felt small cravings.

"Whatever." Roderick sighed and bashed the shovelhead's skull into a nearby wall, delivering it to the afterlife. He took lead of the group once again and left the room behind.

Amy clutched her gun tightly as she followed the two other vampires. She felt a sense of vague satisfaction at slaying a Sabbat. Only three other vampires have met their Final Death from her hands, two of which she killed during while frenzying, and the third…

"There's a pack, four—no five, six… In the next room." Lothario had one eye closed with his head tilted to the side.

"Good." Roderick muttered, "We could get the jump on them." Immediately after saying that sentence, he paused and turned his attention to Lothario.

"Why are you starring at me?"

Roderick shook his head and grumbled some inaudible curse. "Nevermind."

He moved up to the doorway and listened for movement in the other room. Amy and Lothario carefully approached behind him. A few seconds passed before Roderick entered the room and took out a shovelhead who stood nearby. Lothario followed in afterwards, attempting to reserve some of his vitae and take on a Sabbat in direct melee. A claw scraped his chest before he managed to plant his knife into the creature's throat and tear it out. Amy approached the doorway, the howls of the Sabbat tearing into her ears.

To her right, Roderick had been making quick work of the fools who attempted to take him, dodging and countering blows, apparently saving what ammo he had left for times to come. Two Sabbat had ganged up on Lothario, and before Amy could consciously raise her gun, aim and pull the trigger, one of the Sabbat froze in place and broke into a fit of laughter, leaving Lothario to put full attention on the second one, dispatch it with several stabs, and slit the throat of the laughing Sabbat with ease.

A second battle had ended with Amy not doing a single thing except watch. Roderick didn't even bother to waste words on her this time, moving to the other end of the room after taking in the relative peace following the battle. Lothario provided a comforting smile and then took a moment to examine the wounds he gathered. Minor, but all too annoying.

As the Malkavian and Ventrue continued through the basement, Lothario becoming a bit more in tune with the mission after each passing battle, Amy remained as hopeless and lost as ever, conflicted inside over both wanting and fearing being useful. Part of her hoped that if she kept showing an aptitude for failure in combat, maybe the prince would focus on assigning her only to social engagements, but quickly crushed that idea. If she was to move up in the Camarilla, she had to make herself worthwhile in any and all situations. For Erik, she had to get the hang of combat.

Completely torn, Amy tried to focus on the task at hand, quickly walking down a flight of stairs to the final level of the basement. At the bottom of the stairs, Lothario grabbed Roderick's shoulder and spoke.

"The Fiend lurks in the shadows beyond this hall. His domain is painted with pain and death and is guarded by flesh crafted minions." He then turned his attention to Amy, "Be careful, beauty. Do what you think is right."

Amy let the last question sink into her mind. She wondered if his Dementia had given him an insight into her current turmoil. She had already decided to do something, anything. She felt a dire need to impress Roderick, for if she could show as much combat aptitude as he did, surely the Camarilla would have higher positions for her.

Her humanity would have to take a backseat, and that one thought nearly caused her to breakdown and cry. Feeding, she felt like she had a choice, drinking from blood packs or letting her curse overtake her so that she could remove herself from the situation, but she couldn't run anymore.

"Try not to die." Roderick said, giving a brief gaze to each of his companions before leading on down the hall.

* * *

[Post 38]

Author : BurningRave

Date : Jun 6 8:22pm

Across the country from where Amy lurked through the halls of the Hallowbrooke Hotel on a mission for the Camarilla, another of Erik's agents found herself crawling in the alleyways of Chicago. Night embraced the city and the shadows of the moon provided ample cover for her to hunt as she pleased.

"Alright you miserable excuse for a ghoul," She held a trembling man off his feet and pinned to the wall behind a grocery store.

Every time a car passed by the end of the alley, the headlights gave a brief glimpse of the face of the ghoul's assailant. Her grin revealed rows of short, sharp teeth and she had short, black, fluffy hair on top of her head. She stared at him with two dark green cat-like eyes. A thick, metal baseball bat was strapped to her back and although the ghoul couldn't see it, a long, fluffy tail emerged from a hole in the back of her pants.

"Wh-wh-what do y-y-you want?" The frightened ghoul's eyes were wide open. His attacker could feel him tremble in her grasp.

"Yes. Yes, certainly!" She leaned forward so that her face was only a couple of inches from his neck and took a deep inhale. "The smell of Warlocks are thick upon your hide, ghoul."

"I just—I—What do you want from me!"

The Gangrel snarled with delight. "I want you to speak before I see which is stronger; your skull or this wall. Where can I find Sris?"

"Who? Listen lady, I don't-" She dug her nails into his shoulders and licked his cheek.

"Mmm… Tastes like…" She pulled back a little and took another inhale, "LIES!"

The ghoul yelled out, but Nahlia gave little concern to his scream. "I don't know! Please, I don't—"

"Wrong answer!" She pulled him back, enjoying every second of this, and smashed him against the wall. "Lead me to my prey, little one."

Tears swelled in the ghoul's eyes. "Listen to me! I don't know! I only learned about this shit a night ago!"

"Wrong again!" Nahlia smashed him against the wall a second time. He coughed up blood. "Tell me what you do know, birdie. Who is your master, and where can I find his den?"

"He-he's a Tremere… They have a place across town. 378 North Boulevard…" The ghoul managed to say before erupting in a fit of painful coughing. "Please… Please let me—"

Every one of the Gangrel's teeth plunged into the ghoul's neck. He fell into the sweet lull of the Nahlia's Kiss and soon fell limp as she filled on vitae. She let him collapse on the ground when she finished, then looked to the sky and howled before running off down the alley to continue her hunt.

After scaling a building, she leapt from rooftop to rooftop and managed to cross the city in good time. Every leap excited her inner beast; so much so that she stopped to yell out in pure joy. The hunt thrilled her. Every night for the past month she spent hunting down the Tremere Sris, a reclusive and solitary vampire that traveled with Erik in centuries passed. Now Erik wanted his old friend's companionship. More specifically, Erik desired Sris's advice and power.

Forty minutes after her meeting with the ghoul, Nahlia found herself standing on the roof of a Tremere Chantry. From the breadcrumbs she'd picked up along the way to Chicago, she learned that Sris occasionally made contact with this specific Chantry, owing a lot of his developing as a vampire to their assistance.

"I can smell the scent of these Warlocks, yes yes. "As if by a force of habit, she began to lick her arm. "Oh, little rabbits, please let me inside," She crawled over to the ledge and dug her claws into the walls on the side of the building.

Nahlia made her way to a window and knocked on it, calling out, "Here, here, breadcrumbs! A kindred seeks assistance in her hunt!" She probably should have been more concerned about random by passers, but she was never one to strictly uphold the masquerade.

After no one replied, she hit the window harder. "Come on! I'm having a hard time trying to respect your territory. I'm just dying to smash this window!"

That seemed to catch the attention of the Tremere inside the building. A light flicked on and a young vampire opened the window. Nahlia flung herself through the window, interrupting the Tremere as he began to speak.

"Just what do you think you're doing? Do you even realize that-"

The Gangrel got to her feet and stepped right in front of him. "You smell like a new born." She sniffed around him, which seemed only to escalate the Tremere's confusion.

"I better, um… Get someone for you to talk to." He carefully made his way around Nahlia, towards the door.

"Please do! I'm very anxious to continue my hunt." She crouched down on all fours and started scratching her head with quick swiping motions.

* * *

[Post 39]

Author : lothario

Date : Jun 7 12:14am

After descending a short flight of stairs, the three kindred made their way past a few battered supply rooms. Drips from leaking water pipes overhead left little tracks along the bare concrete floor of the musty hallway, and Lothario noted the smell of mildew in the air as he ran his fingers along the chipped green paint of the cement brick walls. The afterimages of old and twisted power hummed in the hallway, and Loth couldn't help but feel a slight sense of dread in the presence of such strong impressions. The Twisted One had walked this hall many times in the past... thankfully, that being was gone from the mortal world forever.

"Pay attention." Lothario looked up after Rod broke him from his musings. Giving him and Amy a stern gaze, Rod continued. "Make sure your clips are full... we're coming to a door." Loth nodded, helping Amy with the loading of her pistol magazines as they continued to walk, and just as Rod had said, a strong metal door stood at the end of a short corner in the hallway. The leader of the troupe tested the lock, and Loth heard the Ventrue curse under his breath. While Rod obtained some tools from his briefcase and set to work on the locked door, Loth took the opportunity to whisper to his battleflower.

"How are you doing?" Amy nodded bravely, and replied.

"Better... thanks."

"You did a good job on those bad guys back there... just remember not to tug on the trigger so much. Squeeze it like a wet sponge."

"A wet sponge?"

"Yeah, and keep your wrist stiff. Try not to anticipate the recoil... just let the shot happen."

"Okay, Dirty Harry... no problem." The two of them shared a smile for a moment, and then Rod called out softly.

"Got it. Let's go."

Raising the shotgun, Rod pushed the heavy door open, revealing a darkened underground parking lot with a few empty vehicles parked off to the side. As Loth followed the Ventrue through the door, he noticed a wide path lit by yellowed lights that led up towards a loading dock where trucks could offload cargo to the old hotel. Of course, the days of the Hollowbrook as mortal lodging were long gone, but the yellow lights lining the ramp seemed to be freshly placed bulbs.

"Don't wander off, Lunatic." Loth gave Rod a worried gaze, and then nodded in reply.

And then they all heard it.

It was a loud and echoing scampering noise, as if made by a 500 lb. rat, and Loth's eyes widened as he cast his gaze desperately around. The acoustics of the large garage made it nearly impossible to pinpoint the location of the noise, but fueled by fear, Loth pushed the blood as hard as he dared into his eyes, feeling as if they might pop out from his head with the effort. Suddenly, Loth saw the hunched aura of a monstrous form that radiated an angry red. It was crouched down behind an abandoned van near the ramp, and Lothario cried out in alarm.

"Over there!"

Loth raised his pistol as the nightmarish thing lurched out from behind the old van and sped towards them. It was more horrific than anything he had ever seen - large and globular, completely inhuman, looking like a fleshy-veined Pac-Man with a mouth full of shark teeth that gibbered and howled with frenzy as its stubby four legs carried it forward at a frightening speed. Amy shrieked, Rod lowered his shotgun, and Loth cried out as he pointed his 9mm at the onrushing horror.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

The deafening roar of gunfire erupted from the three kindred, and the Tzimisce ghoul danced and spun from numerous impacts, barely slowed by the flying projectiles as it leapt onto Lothario with a throaty and angry scream. Lothario stepped out of his body as the rotschreck took hold, and calmly he watched from a distance as his torn body struggled underneath the clawed ghoul that almost managed to bite his head off before the continued onslaught of molten lead and 9mm slugs harmed the terror enough to give it pause. Loth smiled at the globs of destroyed flesh that flew from the wounded beast as Amy fired over and over into the bulk of the creature, and with a final gurgle, the phosphorous rounds of Roderick's shotgun claimed the corrupted life of the monster. It fell over onto its side, slowly melting apart into a mass of quickly burning ash, and Lothario saw himself erupt from underneath the burning mass, howling like the madman he was, and run off up the ramp to disappear into the night.

Still outside of himself, Loth shrugged to his friends and spoke words that they couldn't hear.

"Sorry guys. I got too hurt. AHH SHIT! This isn't a nervous tic! Look out behind you!" Lothario cringed as the tall, darkened mass of tentacles and feet revealed itself from a hidden corner and sped towards his friends.

"LOOK OUT! OH NO!" Loth hid his face in his hands, afraid to watch, but then he peeked out from behind his fingers as the sickening crunch of ghoul hitting kindred flesh didn't happen when it was supposed to.

Amazingly, Rod was standing with his hands raised towards the even bigger ghoul, who had stopped its attack and was standing still. Beads of blood-sweat stood out on Rod's forehead, and his teeth were clenched in fierce concentration as his Dominate discipline overcame the preternatural rage of the creature and calmed it. Amy whispered, seemingly afraid to disrupt the spell.

"What do I do?" Rod replied quietly, his hands curling into tight fists.

"Hand... me... my... gun..." Amy quickly reached down and held Rod's gun in front of him, which he slowly took from her grasp, and tilting his head slightly to the side, he whispered to the monstrous bulk of the ghoul.

"Open... your... mouth..." The horror complied, powerless under the might of Rod's control.

A final bang echoed through the garage, and the ghoul fell away, burning into a puddle of ash as Rod slumped his shoulders and Amy gave a little cry of relief.

Suddenly, Lothario's spirit was drawn away, and he frowned grimly as he thought of what trouble he might have caused during his frenzied state.

Dammit, this was probably going to suck.

* * *

[Post 40]

Author : BurningRave

Date : Jun 7 1:48am

Roderick took a second to collect himself, since the last act of Dominate take a lot out of him. Amy ran forward, wanting to chase after Lothario, but stopped and looked over her shoulder at the Ventrue.

"We have to go after him." The Toreador was shaking. Those creatures were the worst things she had ever laid her eyes upon, and now their images had burned into her memories, all the more reminder of what a monstrous world she was part of.

Roderick loaded his gun with the few rounds he had left. "This is like one giant escort mission." He groaned, running a hand down his face in frustration. "Did you see where he ran off to?"

Amy nodded and took lead into the depths of the darkened parking lot. She worried about her Malkavian friend, the only person to show her kindness since she entered Santa Monica. If he met Final Death that night, she would be completely alone.

The stench of death and decay filled the air. As the two vampires chased their frenzied comrade, they passed a few severed limbs and decaying corpses. The further they progress, the more horrifying the lot became, as if it were a den to a sadistic, gruesome monster. It took a bit of concentration for Amy to prevent herself from keeling over. The foul air and horrid sights nearly overpowered her.

At last, they entered a large room. Pieces of flesh and bone lay scattered on the floor and unrecognizable body parts had been tossed into the corners to rot in small, foul pools of blood. The lower half of a human body hung from a chain hooked into its ankle from the center of the room. Standing right before it was a vampire who immediately captivated Amy's attention. His perfectly sculpted flesh made him appear mesmerizing. She felt that if she hadn't loved Erik, that she might have fallen madly in love with the Tzimisce at that very moment.

Screams of random, slurred together obscenities echoed through the room.

"Fantastic." Roderick mumbled to himself as he caught sight of the frenzied Malkavian desperately trying to break free from the bone restraints that held him firmly against a wall.

"You… So, pretty." Amy found herself walking towards the Tzimisce. He seemed to take great delight in hearing those words.

Roderick quickly moved forward and grabbed Amy's shoulder. "I am not going to baby sit you. Snap out of it."

"What's the matter, Camarilla dogs?" The Tzimisce said, carefully forming his words. Lothario's stream of cursing never ceased, forcing the vampire to speak over him. "You can easily dispatch a bunch of four night old Sabbat, but when faced with an actual threat, you reveal your true, weak nature?"

The Toreador shook her head and woke from her trance. "What… What are you doing here?"

"Making art, young Toreador. Perhaps you'd like to model for me?" He gave a devilish smile.

"Art…" She became lost in his words, his smile.

Roderick shook his head in disbelief. "You have got to be—Fine! I'll do it myself." He stepped in front of Amy and leveled his shotgun.

Although Roderick may have not noticed, in her fascination, Amy saw the flesh of the enemy vampire bulk up, as if hardening. In the next instant, Roderick fired his gun. The Tzimisce stumbled when hit with the bullets, but quickly regained composure and began to approach the Ventrue, who unloaded a few more shots. They all caused similar reactions.

"At least you had enough sense to use incendiary rounds. I wouldn't have even flinched otherwise." Amy watched as the Tzimisce rushed forward, swiping the shotgun out of Roderick's hand.

Quickly, the Ventrue stepped backwards, doing well to avoid his opponent's claws. Amy blinked a couple of times. The feeling of steel against her palm brought her back to reality. Roderick was in trouble and she could finally prove herself. Focusing on her body, just how her sire taught her, Amy felt a hot surge of blood rush through her veins. The sound of each step of the sparring vampires amplified as it entered her ears. The smell of decayed flesh became more pungent and the darkness of the room trickled away.

Powered by Celerity, the Toreador dashed forward, aiming her gun at the back of the Tzimisce. She unloaded the 9mm handgun, each bullet causing a small stream of blood to fly from the vampire's back. Shocked by the sudden attack, the Tzimisce turned his attention briefly to Amy. Roderick seized the opportunity to strike. Reinforcing his supernatural strength with blood, he snatched his enemy's arm and twisted it around his back.

"Do something!" Roderick yelled, struggling to subdue his opponent.

Amy quickly went to reload her gun, but became distracted when the Tzimisce called out, "What a foolish mistake!" Roderick yelled out in pain shortly thereafter.

Bones protruded from the Tzimisce's back, impaling into Roderick's body. Once his grasp of the vampire lessened, the Tzimisce forced the bones back into his flesh, spun around, grabbed the Ventrue by the throat and tossed him against the closest wall. Lothario continued to scream from the sidelines, and Roderick groaned, struggling to mend the wounds and get to his feet.

"And now you, my dear." He began to walk towards Amy, who, realizing the impending danger, shoved a new clip into her gun. She aimed it and fired at the approaching vampire.

Only half of the bullets actually hit their mark, doing next to nothing to slow the Tzimisce. Amy stepped backwards as she fired, calling on Celerity again when the Tzimisce ran at her.

It wasn't enough to avoid him. She glided backwards as she emptied her gun. While she reached for a new clip, the Tzimisce lunged forward, overcoming Amy's low-level mastery of Celerity. He snatched the gun from her hand and tossed it to the ground.

Frightened, feeling the creature's cold hands wrapped around her arms, Amy could do little but look into his face. She became lost in his eyes, the same color as Erik's and her sire's.

"Such a pretty thing you are." The sadistic being smiled, running a hand through Amy's hair. He knew that she had fallen prey to his looks. "I bet you take a lot of pride in your beauty."

From the other side of the room, Roderick called out. "Let her go!"

Lothario rattled the bones that confined him, desperately trying to break the bonds.

Still, it was too late. In the amount of time it took for Roderick to regain his composure, the Tzimisce had already weaved his flesh craft. Amy's trance ended in severe pain. She screamed out as the vampire molded her flesh and bone, ruining the lower half of her face, bending her body's bones and causing growths to form on her shoulders and back.

"Such a pretty doll." The Tzimisce laughed in sadistic glee before tossing the broken Toreador to the ground, leaving her to wallow in pain and her own despair.

* * *

**Author's Comment:** I noticed a couple consistency errors here, but nothing major.

I also hadn't thought that I introduced Nahlia this early in the story, but apparently I had. God, it's been a real long time. Nahlia's demeanor changes a bit as I begin mesisng with her character more. Why, at the beginning of her first entry, she even appears somewhat normal.

Haha.

**roddy's Comment:** Not much to add here, since it's pretty much just a continuation of the last set of entries. And, hey, the enemy is an actual threat here. That's pretty cool.

Oh, yeah, I ignored the aspects of the minor blood bond that would have formed when Roderick drank some of the shovelhead's blood. I don't think it matters too much, though. He could will himself to overcome it long enough to kill the vampire.


	10. Our Story Begins Nights 1 And 2 Part 9

[Post 41]

Author : roddyrod

Date : Jun 7 2:52am

Roderick watched as the Fiend dropped the deformed Toreador to the ground. He had to think quickly. Two options presented themselves to him, and neither was particularly pleasing. The first was to flee, to leave his two co-workers. His respect for the Toreador grew in the past few moments, and he almost liked the Malkavian, despite his penchant for shouting out obscenities at the most inappropriate times. He didn't want to leave them, not until all other options were exhausted. The other option… it was dangerous. Amy seemed far too preoccupied with her own problems to be paying any attention to the fight, and he figured he could explain away anything Lothario saw as figments of his frenzied imagination. But if he indeed had to flee, he would no doubt meet his Final Death not too long afterwards.

The choice was clear. The Tzimisce approached, and he could tarry no longer. He shut out the distractions. He fully concentrated on the power of his own bloodline. Just a moment later, most of the room was filled with a thick, even palpable, cloud of pure darkness. Roderick could see through the murk, even though it extinguished the meager lighting of the room, but even he found it hard to concentrate within. The sounds within were all distorted beyond the point of being understandable, but he could make out some noise coming from the Fiend. _That'll teach you to turn your back on an enemy that has already proven to be resourceful. You're dead, Fiend._

The tarry mass was more than just blinding. He knew his foe could not move through it with ease, and took a moment to compose himself. He had little experience using Obtenebration against Kindred, having practiced almost exclusively on unsuspecting kine and his ghoul, who seemed to almost enjoy the suffocating shadows. What he was about to do, however, he had only done once before, and even then in self-defense.

He didn't have too much blood left, and his own willpower was failing, having exerted himself far too much in holding back those monstrosities a few minutes ago. Draining himself of all but a third of the blood he had, he manipulated the shadows of the shroud that surrounded him and his ever-advancing target. He summoned three six-foot-long tentacles of very solid darkness around the fleshcrafter, who remained oblivious of their existence until he willed them to strike. They wrapped their tenebrous forms around him, and Roderick watched as the Tzimisce struggled to break free. It managed to break free of and destroy one of the tendrils, but it was too little, too late. The vampire, already weakened by the shadows that engulfed him, fell about half a minute later, though the mental exertion made it seem far longer for Rod.

He dissipated the unnatural shadows that filled the room, and fell to the ground on one knee. He struggled to stand up again, and succeeded with some difficulty. He watched as the cage holding back Lothario fell back to the walls, and all he could do was hope that he was no longer frenzied.

* * *

[Post 42]

Author : lothario

Date : Jun 7 3:29am

The suffocating ink was finally gone from his eyes, and Lothario picked himself up from the floor. Looking down at the blood and gore that clung to his partially-shredded coat, Loth shrugged and gave a mortal-like sigh. Amy was weeping quietly in a corner, crouched down and hugging her arms around herself, and although his first thought was to go to her, Loth instead turned to Roderick, who looked even more pale than usual.

Rod was more than an enigma, he was the very stuff of questions, and gritting his teeth in the anticipation of the conflict ahead, Lothario approached the Ventrue. Their eyes were locked as he drew close, and Lothario frowned slightly as he spoke.

"It clings to you, Roderick. Like this piece of somebody's pancreas that sticks to my coat. The shadows... they love you." Roderick made no reply at all, not even the slightest twitch of an expression crossed the Ventrue's face. Seeing as how there was to be no answer - no explanation, Lothario continued his monologue.

"But we cannot help what loves us, just as we cannot help what we love in return." Loth gestured to Amy, who was still huddled in the corner with her hands to her face.

"Amy is tortured by love... her heart sings of it, and drips it - everywhere she goes. But that isn't her fault... just as the shadows aren't your fault." There was a pregnant pause that hovered in the air between the two kindred, and then Lothario turned his head away and murmured.

"Fuckstick." When Loth turned back to the "Ventrue", as that was what Rod wanted to be known as, Loth was surprised to see the tiniest of smiles start to crack the man's face. Still in the low murmuring voice, Loth continued.

"Excuse me."

Rod's smile grew slightly wider, and then the shadowy kindred nodded.

"You're all right, Lunatic. So do we have an understanding?"

"Such things are your own business, Roderick. My sire has no need to know of what loves you so intently, nor does anyone else." Lothario looked away for a moment, and then turned back to continue in a firm voice.

"I owe you my very life, Rod. What kind of friend would I be to betray such a debt? You may not believe in friends - or in trust, and perhaps for you that is a universal and inescapable truth. But for me, friends are very important. If you are ever ready to have one, then you do."

Lothario slowly offered his hand to the Ventrue, and the everpresent sensation of deja vu settled over Lothario's mind, and he could sense the currents of turmoil spinning away from Roderick as the youngish-looking vampire seemed to consider the wisdom of accepting his hand. The whispers in Loth's mind filled his ears.

"We have been in this place before. Will he shake your hand again?"

* * *

[Post 43]

Author : roddyrod

Date : Jun 7 3:40am

Roderick stared at Lothario for what seemed to be long moment before he acted. _A friend. Yes. A friend can be useful, even… pleasant to have_. His thoughts flitted back to a childhood long gone, the days of innocence, of happiness, of learning. Of friends. He grabbed the Malkavian's hand, and slowly shook it. After a moment of silence, he let go, and simply looked in the direction of the Toreador. No words were necessary; his new friend knew what he meant.

* * *

[Post 44]

Author : BurningRave

Date : Jun 7 4:36am

Pressing her hands against her face, she felt her disfigurement. Amy's fingertips ran over the unnatural bumps and growths that plagued her body. She was stuck hunched over, as if her spine had been twisted and bent. Hot red tears streamed from her eyes as she continued to explore the horror that had become her body.

_I'm a monster._ The thought repeated constantly in her mind, each time feeling as if she ran a razor blade across her throat. _A monster! A freak!_ She was shaking and couldn't stop her hands from exploring her new body. Her turmoil mixed with hunger. She had used more blood than she wanted to that night, and was now paying the price.

_Alone, alone… So alone._ She thought of Erik. _He wouldn't abandon me… No! I'm so ugly! How could he love me!_ Then her thoughts turned to Lothario, how he seemed so taken by her when they first met. _He'll hate me now. That adoration I felt warmed by will be absent from his eyes. He'll look at me and see a nothing but a disfigured freak._

She next focused on Roderick. _He never liked me in the first place… Now he won't even be able to tolerate my presence. _Blood from her eyes flowed down her cheeks and to her mouth, dabbing at her tongue, reminding her that she craved blood. _Just a monster. I've always been a monster hiding behind a mask of a human… _Sobs escaped her while she buried her face in her hands, pressing against the disfigurement of her jaw to remind her of how ugly she had become. She rocked back and forth while the words "Not human" repeated in her head.

The pain, the hunger, her emptiness drove her to the ends of her sanity. In one loud scream, she lost herself to her inner demon, just as she had done on countless other occasions. No longer would she have to think or feel, she would just act based off instinct. Amy took comfort in losing herself.

The tormented Toreador wanted to get away and hide. The presence of Lothario and Roderick became an all too painful feeling. If they saw what she had become, there would be no telling what would happen to her mentality.

Rising to her feet, she ran. Caring not for how much blood remained in her body, she embraced Celerity, her extreme desire to run away from the entire situation drove her to move faster than she had before. In a blur, she passed the other vampires, passed the halls of darkness and decay, up several flights of stairs and out into the streets. She didn't know where she running, just wanting to escape the horror that had been placed on her. She took misery in loneliness, but at the same time, she desired little else except to be alone.

Fate brought one unlucky soul across her path that night. A man went to relieve himself behind a dumpster at the back of a building. He glanced over and saw a shambled form of what, at one point in time, was an attractive woman. That was the last thing he ever saw as the Toreador pounced on him, screaming into the night before plunging her fangs into his neck and draining him dry.

Amy remained latched to him for a few moments after he passed on. She started to cry as the beast weakened with her hunger quenched. Her miserable sobs echoed in the alley, the sounds of the night doing little to drown them. She huddled besides the dumpster and looked into the sky, praying that the night would end and take her away from it all.

Erik was the most important thing to her, and she knew that she would never be able to face him in her current form. Without Erik, she had little other purpose to existing. First, her sire left her and then her artistic talent began to fade as she struggled with her humanity. The fact that she used to appear human gave her at least some comfort in her tormented existence, which provided a small amount of hope that she may someday feel human and be able to paint again. Now Amy felt as if she had nothing left.

_I'm so sorry my love. It would break what's left of my heart to have you see me like this._ Immediately after that thought, she questioned if monsters even had hearts.

Laughter broke out over Amy's sobs and Daniel appeared out of thin air. "Well, well, well, well, well." He started the next sentence, but stopped himself to laugh some more, taking a moment to control himself before continuing. "I wish I had a camera. This is beyond golden."

Amy could do little more than look up at the Nosferatu, a creature bearing disfigurements much like her own. Still, she couldn't help but to feel uglier than Daniel.

"This beats my marker thing handsdown!" Daniel leaned forward and clutched his stomach while laughing. "And look at this here! You killed a man! You sure are one fucked up monster!"

The broken Toreador's eyes widened and her hands began to tremble.

"Oh, did I hit a nerve? I'm just telling you how it is. You're a monster! A freak! Heh, I know a circus that might be willing to chain you in a cage and charge fifty cents so that kine can come in and thank the good lord that they aren't half as ugly as you are." Without a doubt, Daniel was enjoying this moment.

Without any emotion, Amy muttered, "Kill me."

Daniel busted out laughing again. "If it were that simple, darling, I would have done so a month ago when I first saw you, but I'm loyal to Erik. I doubt he'd like it much if I returned with your blood on my hands." He crouched down, so that he could get at eye level with Amy. "If you want to die so bad, just stay here for a couple of hours. The night's almost over, Princess."

With another stream of laughter, Daniel faded under the covered of Obsfucate. As he left the scene, he called back to Amy. "I'll be sure to tell Erik exactly how you look. Don't worry, I won't miss a single detail."

The Nosferatu left, feeling quite pleased with how the night turned out. Amy, tormented and broken, looked up at the sky and repeated what she said to Daniel.

"Kill me."

* * *

[Post 45]

Author : lothario

Date : Jun 7 5:34am

After Amy's maddened rush, Lothario looked over to Roderick and frowned. Walking over to where she had huddled to herself in the corner of the diseased room, Lothario felt around on the floor, tasting at the whirlpools of agony that Amy had left spinning in the space between spaces. It was bad... real bad.

"Rod? She's gone loco. The Tzimisce..."

"Go find her, Lothario. Maybe I'll figure out what to do with our report to the Prince."

"S-Stupid SHIT! Err.. good idea. I'll find her."

The two kindred gave each other a nod, and then Lothario was sniffing at the air like a bloodhound, although the stench of Amy's tormented passage was overpowering. What he was searching for was more than a trail, he was looking for the source of the pain behind the pain, but there was too much raw energy in the signature right now. She had lost herself as she ran, and the images that filtered into his shattered mind were beyond his limited comprehension.

As he chased her trail into the street, the feeling that he was following a wounded animal became more poignant, and Loth got the sense that he was looking at a trail of blood left by a finger that had worn itself down after repeatedly being dragged across sandpaper. There were bits of flesh mixed in with the blood, and if the finger didn't stop pressing itself repeatedly against that rough surface, the bone would begin to wear as well, and then... there would be nothing. Time was running out.

After a while of crossing empty streets, Loth stumbled across a darker, but familiar signature, and recognized it as the black worm from the apartment. This trail was intertwined with Amy's reddened one, and Loth furrowed his brow in concern as he quickened his pace. Although he couldn't see into the future, he had a sense that something awful was nearing his broken flower, and if he had the chance, he would do something to stop it - although the aching wounds in his side were still healing. But the scent of her pain was stronger than his own, and he grimaced in steely-eyed determination as he chased down an alleyway were he stumbled across the torn corpse of a young man partially hidden in a pile of old newspaper.

His throat had been torn out, an obvious Kindred mark, and Loth's heart sank as he felt into the softening reddened trace of Amy all over the man's body. He hadn't been there to stop her this time, and this kine had paid the price. Loth heaved a resigned sigh, and then resumed his tracking... resulting in success only three seconds later.

She was huddled in a tight wad of herself, as if trying to disappear from merely holding herself into as tight a ball as she could.

"My blood flower."

Doing the impossible, Amy shrank down even more, and Lothario reached out a cautious hand to touch her arm.

"You've been hurt."

Still no response.

"We need to get you some help."

Lothario's eyes widened in shock as Amy roared up from her crouch in a fit of bloodthirsty rage. Her eyes were glowing with the force of her emotion as she hollered down at him.

"THERE IS NO HELP FOR THIS! LOOK AT ME!" Despite his fear of her, Lothario stood to face her eye to eye.

"You don't know that! You didn't even know how to handle a gun until tonight! How much more is there out there that you don't know?" Amy reached back as if to smite him with her godlike fury, but then stayed her hand, seemingly chewing on the words he spat back at her. Seeing as he was still alive, Lothario continued in a rush.

"FAGSHIT! FUCKING FAGSHIT! We can ask Jeanette! She'll know something! There has to be a way!" Amy slowly dropped her hand, and then Lothario finally took the time to really look at her mutated face and crooked body.

It was odd, but the undercurrents of her pain seemed even more pleasant than before her injury. In a way, this calamity had set her more free than she had been in quite a while, and that sense of freedom was what made her so achingly beautiful to him. Sure, she had been a pretty creature when he had first laid eyes on her last night, but that wasn't what attracted him. It was the sense of her empowered destiny - a certain... indescribable "something special" about her, that set her apart from anyone else except for maybe Roderick, who also hummed with that intangible quality. Their stories... they were intertwined.

"Lothario..." Her voice was slurred from the damage to her face, and Loth interrupted her quickly.

"Don't talk right now. Let's get you some... more blood, to try to heal with. We'll go back to the apartments, call Jeanette, we'll figure something out. I've got some O Negative in my fridge we can use. Come on, Amy... we need to get away from... the accident lying over there."

* * *

**Author's Comment:** Once again, Daniel comes into play at the most opportune time to mock Amy. As the story went on, I actually began to miss how I had him just lurking in the background, unmentioned, until he finally decided to appear. He later had some of his own things to handle and couldn't constantly stalk Amy, especially with Lothario around.

Also, I make more references to Amy's past. I actually end up caving in and revealing the whole story rather early at some point, something that I half-wish I hadn't done, but whatever.

**roddy's Comment:** Um, yeah, anyway... what a tweest! Roderick is a Lasombra. Shock and awe. Like the god from the machine, he uses his magical darkness power and kills the baddie. In my defense, being shot must have harmed the Tzimisce somewhat, even if it displayed no physical symptoms. More frightening is the foe that doesn't react (much) to being shot (by fire!). So yeah. Amy had her breakdown and stuff happened.

I forgot to mention it in my last comment, but that was when Roderick's shotgun got damaged, hence me writing it out for a while, as I said I did in some earlier comment. He replaces it, though, with... well, if you cared enough you'd read and see.


	11. Our Story Begins Nights 1 And 2 Part 10

[Post 46]

Author : roddyrod

Date : Jun 7 7:00am

Roderick watched as Lothario left. _That turned out better than I expected_, he thought, particularly in reference to the Malkavian's reaction to his own ability. He was slightly concerned about Amy, though. _A deformed Toreador…_ He knew that the Degenerates possessed the ability to utilize others to meet their own ends willingly, and he respected—even admired—that quality about them. A Toreador that was no longer capable of that was a sad sight indeed. Though he was unaware of the extent of her deformities, he knew that even something relatively minor was enough. Even though he didn't care much for her, she showed some degree of promise, and Lothario seemed to particularly like her. Despite his general mistrust of Malkavians, their damned insight was not something to ignore.

As it was, he still had to decide what exactly to tell the Prince. Since his use of Obtenebration would not be one of those things, his main concern was coming up with a satisfactory explanation for the defeat of the Tzimisce. He thought about that while he scanned the floor for his shotgun, which he found to be in a slightly damaged state. _This won't come cheap. I suppose I'll just have John do it tomorrow night, while I'm out currying favor. _He went back through to building to retrieve his suitcase from the entrance to the room where he fought the Fiend's creations. I'll just pass the Tzimisce off as not being that powerful, he decided, even though it probably wouldn't hold up under scrutiny, considering the extent of the damage to Amy.

His thoughts moved back to the Toreador._ It is fixable… He wasn't overly powerful, even if his knowledge of Vicissitude was considerable._ He wondered what Amy's generation was, or if she even knew. He knew that if they were equal, or she was lower, she could heal it in time, but otherwise she'd need to find a Fiend (or anyone else that had some knowledge in fleshcrafting) that was friendly to the Camarilla, or at least neutral, and willing to work on her._ Not likely… Well, if the Sewer Rats can live with it, so can she. It might just take a bit of work. _He remembered that mess in the alley behind the Asylum. Or not.

He put his broken shotgun back inside his suitcase, and inspected what he could of his clothes. _How many businessmen get mugged and live?_ he wondered as he inspected the numerous tears in the cloth. He still bore the scars of his battle, so it wouldn't raise any particular questions if there were large gaps in the cloth, even if anyone was out at this point in the night. As he left the remnants of the Hallowbrook, he looked at the moonlight reflecting off one of the windows across the way. There was one reflection in particular missing. He didn't care all too much about it; he never hung around reflective surfaces, so people didn't notice, and he wasn't a particularly vain person. Still, he was mildly curious as to the extent of the damage to his suit. He shrugged and moved on.

Before he went home, he needed one thing above all else: blood. The main problem with that was the general lack of people wandering the streets at this time of night, though he figured he had a chance of running into a thug somewhere. If that failed, he would break into someone's house, though he wanted to avoid that particular scenario, as it wasn't his area of expertise. He spent the next half-hour or so stalking the back alleys and narrow streets of downtown Los Angeles, finding a few stragglers, taking a small amount of blood (having no desire to do any degree of damage), and Dominating them to ensure that they never mention the event to anyone. After he had fed to the point where he could do so no longer, he decided it was time to leave.

He opened his suitcase once again to get his mobile phone to call his ghoul. He discovered when he tried to turn it back on that the trauma of being dropped numerous times did no good to the life of the device, and he put it back. _I'll get rid of it later,_ he decided, having attached no sentimental value to the piece of electronics. _Taxi, or payphone,_ he wondered, _which is worse?_ Considering the general lack of traffic in the small streets that Roderick preferred to walk, he decided on trying to find a public telephone. He found one not too long later, deposited some change into the machine, and called John to come and pick him up.

_What a night,_ he thought, feeling rather tired in an unnatural kind of way. His thoughts briefly flashed to Amy and Lothario, but he dismissed the thoughts. _I'll talk to them soon enough; tomorrow even._ He was slightly taken aback by his own concern for their wellbeing, but was generally relieved that he still had enough humanity left in him to care.

* * *

[Post 47]

Author : BurningRave

Date : Jun 7 12:41pm

Surprisingly, Lothario provided a sense of comfort for the desecrated Toreador. Still, Amy could not bear to have him look at her. It pained her, even if she saw no disgust in his eyes; she believed it to be there. She scurried away when he reached out a hand, but eventually she gave up resisting. A strong feeling overwhelmed her that her crazy Malkavian friend would try until sunrise to get her to move, and she didn't want his death looming over her in the afterlife.

Lothario ushered the grotesque Amy to a darkened area near some pay phones. He had done well to keep her from looking at the body that her beast killed, lest she go into a fit of unbridled pain and sorrow about how monstrous she had become.

While her Malkavian companion made a quick phone call, she looked at her hands. They had been spared from the Tzimisce's cruel act of sadism, as perfectly formed and soft as the day she died. When those hands touched the new growths on her body, she cried. From her days as a painter, she knew that beauty was perfection, and no matter how perfectly crafted the rest of her body was, one simple deformity was enough to make her hideous, just as the simplest of mistakes could ruin an entire painting.

After Lothario came back to where she waited in the shadows, he stood beside her, offering a comforting presence. Amidst her turmoil, she could tell that he was going at great lengths to stop his tics from occurring. Every now and then, his head would cringe to one side or his mouth would open, letting the beginning of a garbled word escape his lips.

As the cab pulled up, Lothario opened the door for Amy, who couldn't take her attention away from the driver. Lothario's presence was enough to bring her dangerously close to losing it, since she constantly worried about how ugly she appeared to him. A kine, well, she knew that a human would scream and run in terror from her. As someone who spent so much of her time trying to reconnect with the entities of her past life, Amy knew that such an act would completely break her.

Lothario whispered to the driver as Amy reluctantly approached the open door. "My girl isn't doing too great," He looked the driver in the eyes, "We were at a party and she got into this fight with another chick, over who has the cutest shoes or something like that. You know how women are."

The driver laughed. Perhaps Lothario's insanity made it easy for him to emulate a completely different personality in this time of need. "She got banged up pretty bad before I managed to pull them apart. Could you do me a favor and not look back at her? She's self conscious enough, and I know it would kill her for someone to see her like this." He slipped the driver a twenty, as to assure that his lie would go through.

After the driver gave Lothario his word, the Malkavian entered the car and sat next to Amy who had shrunk into the corner of her seat, starring at the driver who never turned around to look at her, never made the attempt to go back on his word and see her in the rear view mirror.

Amy's discomfort never ceased. She spent the entire ride focused on the driver, just waiting for him to see her. She waited for the shock and horror to take over his face, but it never did.

The Malkavian paid the cabbie before escorting Amy down the alley besides Trip's Pawn Shop. The night had become more active, as morning was soon approaching. Luckily, the alley was empty of would be on lookers to Amy's new trauma. Opening the door, Lothario went in ahead of Amy, as to make sure none of the residents would be waiting to gawk at her as they walked to his apartment.

Everyone in the building had either already left to start the day or were still blissfully asleep in their beds. Amy slithered along the wall, cringing as she passed under one of the several lights attached to the ceiling. She felt oddly aware of every conscious being around her, feeling their presence through walls. Every movement of Lothario echoed in her mind. She felt the small amount of heat that the hallway lights gave off every time the light touched her skin. In her desperation to remain hidden, she had summoned upon Auspex to know where every living thing around her lurked.

Lothario ushered her into his room. As she heard him step forward and run his hand along the wall, she gave a weak cry for him to keep the lights off.

"Of course. The darkness will comfort you. Wait here, and I shall fetch vitae for you to feast upon." He walked into the small kitchen area of his apartment.

Amy fell backwards, pressing her back against the wall. She scanned the room, noting how it looked far better than her own. The Malkavian must have, at the very least, attempted to clean it up a little. Lothario came back with a cup full of blood. He extended the cup towards Amy and smiled.

"Drink, dear. If nothing else, it will make you feel better."

The smell of blood poked at Amy's cravings. The man she drained did enough to remove her desperate longing for vitae, but she still felt empty.

As the deformed shell of a Toreador drank from the cup, Lothario walked to his coffin and opened it. "The sun will be up soon, sweet. Take my coffin for the day. You'll find that it makes sleeping a little more enjoyable than finding refuge in the bath—ASSFUCKER- …Er, the bathrooms."

Amy looked up from her cup at the Malkavian, standing beside his coffin. "You just want to lock me away from the world." It wasn't true, of course, but Amy's crushed mind found it easy to bring up ideas that would make things worse.

"Of course not, my flower. It's just that if you stay out her, the sun will burn you to a crisp, and then I fear that I will really go insane." Lothario grinned, walked over to Amy and took the empty cup from her hands. "Go, rest. We'll talk to my sire tomorrow and find a way to take away your pain."

For a brief second, Amy felt better. She forgot her appearance. "You're so sweet."

Lothario nodded, happy with the compliment, believing that he had gained some favor in the Toreador's heart, when really, his kindness led her to think that if this Malkavian could look passed her deformities, so could Erik. Thoughts of her lover clouded her mind as she drifted to sleep, keeping away all the pain of her broken body.

* * *

[Post 48]

Author : BurningRave

Date : Jun 7 1:45pm

After his wonderful encounter with Amy, Daniel made it his priority to get back to Erik and relay the news of the night. He had so much to tell that he felt filled to the brim with excitement. Amy's state of body was the whipped cream, hot fudge and cherry on top of his sundae of information.

Entering the haven, Daniel noted that the Malkavian siblings were sitting in the exact same spot as the night before. Eager to talk to someone who thought exactly like him, he streamlined for the couch.

"You won't believe this, Gerard! There is a God!" Daniel found himself laughing just remembering Amy's ugliness.

The male Malkavian turned his head to the Nosferatu. "That's- That's fantastic! The princess has been defiled! It's so satisfying to see her smug face turned rotten. A thousand times better than drawing on her." Daniel didn't need to mention a word about what he saw. Gerard had already copied all of his memories and seen Amy for himself.

"I said the same thing! I just had to share this moment with someone before talking to the boss. I'm glad you appreciate this moment as much as I do." Daniel laughed at his own comment before walking away.

"Hello Daniel." Erik said as the Nosferatu entered his chamber. "I heard you speaking to Gerard. You certainly do enjoy talking to yourself, don't you?"

"Of course I do. Admit it boss, I'm an awesome creature to be around." Daniel still had a grin plastered to his face.

Erik got up from his chair and gave a humoring smile. "Sounds to me like someone's full of himself."

"At least I'm man enough to admit it, boss."

Erik's smile immediately left his face. "Don't push it."

Daniel coughed in embarrassment and took a step back. "Right, right. No worries. I was only kidding around." He paused for a second, waiting for some response from Erik, who only starred at him. "Boy, do I have some news for you tonight."

"Do tell, Daniel. I'm all ears."

Daniel laughed. "Alright! Where to begin… Where to being. Okay! Got it. Princess's new Malkavian friend is really into her and his sire is sister to the prince of Santa Monica."

Erik stopped him. "Therese and Jeanette?"

"Boss has been doing his homework."

"I like to keep up to date on the politics around here. I knew their father, and I must say that I'm not at all surprised with how messed up they've become, but my Nosferatu agent needn't concern himself with that."

Daniel gave a curious look before continuing. "Right. So, ah, anyways. I'm sure you've heard about the trouble the Sabbat are causing lately. Turns out the Camarilla wants to maintain friendly relations with the Anarchs, so they sent Princess, her Malkavian admirer and, get this, a Lasombra posing as a Ventrue, to aid the Anarchs with the Sabbat."

Erik's interests peaked at the mention of the Lasombra. "Posing as a Ventrue? I wonder why."

The Nosferatu snorted. "Easier to move up in the Camarilla if they don't think you have blood ties to the Sabbat."

Taking in all the information, Erik nodded for Daniel to continue.

"Well, you know the Hallowbrooke Hotel? Turns out the Sabbat were trying to organize a new base of operations there. Either that or they wanted something to distract agents of the Camarilla and Anarchs. Either way, a Tzimisce waited for our three, brave Camarilla agents in the basement. And here comes the best part. He did some of that wicked crazy Vicissitude shit on Princess. She looked uglier than I do by the time our Lasombra friend gave the Tzimisce Final Death."

Erik seemed somewhat concerned. "How did Amy handle it?"

"Frenzied, ran off, killed a guy. It was very enjoyable to watch, boss. I wish you were there."

"Did you do anything to help her?" Erik gazed at the Nosferatu's deformed eyes.

"Well, I… ah, had to hurry back here. The night was almost over by then and I knew her Malkavian would come save the day."

Erik sighed. "You left her for dead, didn't you?"

"No…" Daniel forced a smile. "Why would I do such a thing, boss?"

"Would you mind talking to Gerard about this, then?" Erik stepped towards the Nosferatu. "Gerard!"

"Ah, hell! Fine! I didn't help her, but it's not like I killed her. She wanted me to, but I didn't. I'm sure she's fine."

"Don't let your hate for Amy get in the way of my plans, do you understand? I don't care what you do, as long as you do not jeopardize her mission. If she's dead, I'll be sure to get into that mind of yours and torture you for years before delivering you to your Final Death. Understand that I do this as your leader and it is only because I consider you a friend that I'm willing to let your prejudices slide." Erik turned around to leave his small speech to seep into Daniel's mind.

"Heh… Yea, got it… boss. Really, I'm sure she's fine, though the way she looked could be pretty bad. She's not much good in anything except social gatherings. Now that she looks like a Sewer Rat, she won't even have that."

"I'm not overly concerned."

Daniel tiled his head to the side. "Why not? That Tzimisce was pretty powerful from the look of things."

"Amy's not as high of a generation as you are. Somehow, I doubt an agent that the Sabbat sent to cause a little mischief at that run down hotel could have been of lower generation than her. If he was, I think all three of those Camarilla Kindred would have perished."

Shocked by the news, Daniel struggled to ask, "Just what generation is she?"

"Her sire was of the seventh generation."

"You're shitting me!" It seemed so hard to believe that the crazy Toreador was three generations lower than himself. "Bullshit! She frenzies way too god damned much. If she can use that much more blood than me, she wouldn't be half as crazy as she is."

Erik laughed at his agent's anger. "Have you seen how long she can go without feeding? It's not because she has a superior will than you, she can simply hold more blood. I doubt she even knows what true hunger feels like, since she so desperately clings to feeling like a human, any amount of blood less than what a human carries would feel horribly distressing to her."

"You know, boss, I thought that this night was perfect. I came back expecting to go to sleep with a smile on my face, but now I learn that your little princess is three generations lower than me!" Daniel snarled, trying to bring up images of Amy's disfigurement to calm himself.

"Relax. She's young and weak minded. You embrace your vampirism, but she hides from it. So she can get a little more out of her blood than you, big deal. She's my delicate flower. Don't let it bother you. I need you just as much as I do her."

Daniel relaxed a little. "Fine, fine, but just for the hell of it, can you tell me that I'm capable of squashing her like a grape?"

"Eager to feed the ego, Daniel?" Erik laughed. "There's no doubt in my mind that you could take her in a fight, but if she fed enough, her deformity should heal by tomorrow night, and then I would much rather look at her face than yours."

"Eh, good enough I guess. At least I got a good laugh out of tonight." Daniel turned to leave the room, feeling somewhat back to normal.

"One more thing, Daniel." Erik said, freezing his agent in his tracks. "I want you to find a way to anonymously contact that Lasombra. Perhaps he would be willing to join us. It would be useful to have two agents in the Camarilla, working their way to the top so that we could have a much easier time striking it down. Just make sure not to expose us until we know for certain whether he's willing to join us or will turn us in to the Camarilla. We cannot have him ruining what we have going on. I'm trusting you on this."

"Sure thing boss." Daniel grinned. "I'll get right on that as soon as the sun sets."

"Good, Daniel. Enjoy the rest of your night and do take more care around Amy tomorrow. Remember what we talked about."

* * *

[Post 49]

Author : lothario

Date : Jun 7 3:44pm

The ghoul Romero was in a foul mood, and the hum of his motorcycle underneath him wasn't giving him the customary comforting "buzz of freedom" - as he liked to call it - that it usually did.

As this night wore on, the Sabbat packs had only seemed to get worse. They were harrassing Isaac's holdings and properties with increasing frequency, and more than once Romero found himself wondering just how in the hell the Sabbat could know so much about his master. It's not like Isaac's storefronts and apartment complexes had "Owned by the Baron of Hollywood" stamped on a sign. This whole deal stank to high hell.

The only thing so far that had lifted his dark internal mutterings, aside from the occasional satisfaction of blasting some shovelhead's brains all over the pavement, was the chance to see Nines Rodriguez in action. The man was a veritable symphony of destruction, and now having seen what that Kindred could do, Romero understood why he was held in such high regard.

There he was, bogged down by a squad of Sabbat flunkies, and just when he thought he had caught his last all-nighter with the late show on TV, BAM! From out of nowhere, a blazing fury of unparalleled speed had suddenly appeared, blasting with his pair of pearl-handled Colt Anacondas like a double-fisting conductor of the orchestra, and everywhere the howls of dying shovelheads and burning ash! It had been incredible!

Romero could still see the wry look on Nines' face as the Kindred holstered his smoldering pistols and gestured to the piles of evaporating dead.

"Looks like these jokers won't be bothering us anymore. Would have been a shame if that one over there had managed to toss that molotov cocktail onto your Harley. Should have left that one for you to kill, kid... sorry about that."

Romero had just shrugged, and then Nines had dashed off down the street. Damn... what an awesome guy.

Romero kicked the bike down a gear, and took the corner that led up to one of Isaac's chain of jewelry stores. Nothing here yet... for once. But the sun was still an hour or so away.

* * *

[Post 50]

Author : Kayuna

Date : Jun 7 4:45pm

Anyone who was familiar with vampire fiction would have found that child vampires were always depicted as a little crazy. This was true. The addition of the blood of Malkav in Onella's veins left her completely insane. She wandered the streets of Santa Monica, not entirely sure where she was except that she was near one of her favorite places. Santa Monica was quieter than the rest of the City of Angels, and people were more likely to stop at the sight of what seemed to be a girl-child no older than ten wandering the streets with a distant and blank expression. It made hunting easier. She stopped at the yard of a house on the beach, staring at a furred animal. Someone's watchdog sat, barking furiously at her, and slowly her eyes focused. "Puppy," she stated and reached out to pet it. It sank, growling, but did not move to bite her, possibly knowing what would have happened if it had.

She blinked, or thought she blinked, and found herself closer to the heart of the city-within-a-city. The Asylum was thick with the smell of kin, even so long after. She had been there, though she knew such only by the fact that she could smell herself at the doorway. It was yet another gaping hole in her memory, but they had ceased to bother her. Generally she was much more lucid than this, but the humming in her mind was coupled with an empty feeling in her chest. There where times when the Cobweb was overpowering, and left her in such a dazed state. There was something wrong. Something had been destroyed, but it was only a fragment. A pane in the great window of a plot. "One little shard of stained glass..." she said aloud, not realizing that she had. Once the feeling passed and the voices died down, she would look much more like the child(e) she was. But for now she walked, wandering wherever her feet took her as she tried to decipher the voices.

Some whispered, some conversed, and others screamed and wailed, and yet the whispers were clearest. She frowned, deep within her own mind as she sat in an alley next to a grey stone building, below a window. Here no one but the homeless would see her and worry, as she sat to speak to herself.

"The city of dreams... the hands of death..." she frowned, her jet hair falling, ruler-straight, into her face as she stared at the ground in concentration. Slowly she turned, ignoring the homeless man staring at her, though she made an effort to lower her voice. She took two steps back to look up at a window with dark grey-green eyes. "And here... two dancers prepare to sleep. Only one hears the music, and they only hear half the song..." she shook her head, lucidity coming over her for a brief moment. "The sun will rise soon. I must be elsewhere..." And with that she turned, moving towards a small store on the same road as the asylum, past the underpass, that sold little tourist trinkets, and there was a small living space above it that she had taken up residence in. It was a gift from her sire, shortly before the older vampire had vanished. Still, the ghoul running the store remained loyal to the child, and it was a safe place from the deadly daylight rays.

* * *

**Author's Comment: **Most of this is just entries to close out the night without a whole lot to say. I was catutious with making Amy such a low generatio, so as not to upset the basic balance of character power, but I figured that she proved such a dunce in nearly everything that it couldn't hurt to open her up for such potential way later on.

Also, Daniel's entry here was supposed to serve as a basic re-cap of events for the night. I think I had intiially planned to do this for every night, but not only would that have strained the character's abilities, it was really daunting to summarize everything up.

Lastly, we have our first post from Kayuna, who I hadn't thought had been around near since the get-go, but obviously she had. Kudos to her.

**Note:** I'm going to hold off on posting the rest of this story here. If you want to read the rest, check to end of the Foreword for the information I've left on how to locate the rest of the story. Cheers!

**roddy's Comment:** Turns out I mentioned the shotgun here. Derp.

One thing that, looking back, I don't like is Roderick's understanding of how generation works in relation to Vicissitude. Indeed, I don't think that most vampires even look at generation from a numerical perspective, and they'd have difficulty in ascertaining another's exact generation. I don't think I ever mentioned it again. Roderick's is 9th, for the record.

Kayuna's first post here. It's a shame she didn't write too much and spent a fair bit of time away. She's still around now, though; gotta give her credit for that.

Well, this is the last entry here. I think I'll sign off in a way I once used to, cheesy though it may be.

-roddyrod out


End file.
